


Just Admit It

by Daisy1600



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Lot’s of swearing, M/M, Nate works at 7-Eleven, Not for the faint of heart, Pining, Slow Burn, TGI Friday’s, UST, Wade is nuts, Whump, slight crack, wade doesn’t have a healing factor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy1600/pseuds/Daisy1600
Summary: Nate works the graveyard shift at 7-Eleven, and Wade’s a flirty, delusional mercenary who likes 69¢ slurpee refills and believes that the man with the war wounds and gleaming metal prosthetic arm is in love with him.





	1. Lucky penny

Just as he does anywhere between five and seven times a week, Wade strutted his stuff over to the nearest 7-Eleven, plastic reusable cup in hand, ready to face some stoned ass college dropout that doesn’t know the price of the goddamn products that they sell. Wade has lost count of the number of times he’s had to try and convince the cashier that the refills are a mellow 69¢ and not a whopping $1.49. 

This time though, when he rounded the corner, the glass doors of the... horrifyingly filthy convenience store coming into view, he nearly dropped his beloved cup on the piss-soaked pavement. He couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. 

The cashier was _gorgeous_. 

From the deep-set frown on his face to the gleaming metal prosthetic arm that was even more noticeable against the stark white hue of his t-shirt, he was everything Wade’s ever wanted and _more_. He must be an army veteran, considering the scars on his face and neck that no doubt cover the expanse of his rock hard body, and the fact that you can tell a lot about a man by his haircut. And, well, the cashier had what Wade thought looked like marbley-black and grey waves that he wouldn’t mind having crash over him and drown him. 

“Hey, do you have some change you could spare, or are you just going to stand there _ogling_ that wrinkled fucking goose at the cash register?” Asked the homeless man sitting in a ratty old Spongebob Squarepants beach chair with even rattier blankets piled atop his lap to keep him warm in the... seventy-two degree weather they’re having. 

Shaking his head and slapping it a few times for good measure, Wade turned to face the lowlife. “You better watch what you say, jackass, cause that’s my future husband you’re talking about.” Before the old haggard man could bite back, Wade headed inside, making sure that his boots squeaked loudly against the unwashed tile so that the hot piece of ass at the register would look up at him as he sauntered over to to slurpee machine. 

“Jesus christ,” the man muttered lowly under his breath, sticking a finger in his ear and rubbing it around as he clenched his eyes shut. Guess Wade’s boots were just a little bit _too_ squeaky for Mr. tall, tan and bionic’s liking. He glanced over his shoulder only to see that the man was already glaring after him. More than likely staring at his ass. _Good,_ Wade thought to himself, _Mr. Sexy is already putty in my hands._

He was quick to fill up his cup to the very top with cherry, practically having to give the lid a goddamn blowjob when it began to erupt like a volcano. When he was done, his hands were sticky and covered in the juices of his favoritist thing in the entire world aside from buttsex. 

Before heading over to the cash register, he grabbed some knockoff brand Hostess cupcakes and some Trolli gummy worms. He set all the crap atop the counter, a wide smirk spread across his scarred up face. “So, what’s the damage, big boy?” 

The man, who’s name tag said ‘Nate’, blinked very slowly before scanning the three items. “That’ll be $4.99, Red,” he said, voice a deep, low rumble that sent Wade’s mind straight to the gutter. The man must’ve been referring to his red and black leather jacket he wore while out on a kill. God, it’s just so cute how Nathanial’s already so madly in love with him... 

“Aw, he’s already come up with a nickname for us...” Wade cooed as he slid a fiver across the counter. Nate let out a low growl deep in the back of his throat and punched some buttons on the screen in front of him before setting the receipt and a penny in the palm of Wade’s hand. Which in turn caused the latter to close his hand around Nate’s and hold still for a moment until it was being slowly wiggled free from his firm grasp. 

“You talking to me or what?” 

“Nope, just to the voices in my head, Nathanial.” 

“It’s _Nate_ —“

“Anyways, Natey, you free after work or do you just wanna, y’know, take this into the back room-“ 

“Are you propositioning me?” 

“Depends...” Wade smirked, “Are you saying yes?”

“No.” Nate grumbled with no real heat behind the words. 

“Dammit. Guess we’ll just have to try again next time then.” 

“Still talking to those voices, huh?” Nate asked with a raised brow, seeming genuinely curious. God, it’s like every person Wade flirts with instantly falls madly in love with him... Though it does seem like the guy isn’t too big a fan of shacking up while at work. Maybe he wants to buy Wade dinner before splitting him in half? Guess there’s a first time for everything. 

“You bet your sweet ass I am, Nathanial,” 

The corner of Nate’s mouth twitched slightly, almost as though he were about to smile, but managed to bite the side of his cheek in time to suppress it. “I’m not gonna bother correcting you again because I know you’re just gonna come up with another ridiculous nickname, so have a nice... day, Red.” 

“Day... right. It’s not like it’s one in the morning or anything,” Wade mumbled, more to himself than Nate. “You have a nice day too, Natey. I’ll see you in your dreams. And in mine. And probably again tomorrow at this time because I have a really bad sugar addiction.” 

He then grabbed all his junk off the counter and headed out the door, not missing the quiet “shit,” Nate had breathed out. 

“You don’t even have to ask this time, buddy!” Wade said to the homeless man sitting outside the building as he tossed his change toward him. 

The penny landed atop the man’s blanket covered lap. His wrinkled face managed to scrunch up even more as he picked up the coin and inspected it. “The fuck is this?” He asked, looking offended as all hell. 

“It’s what you oh-so rudely asked me for earlier—“ before Wade could even finish his sentence, the coin was being launched at him; hitting him square in the face. 

The act of blatant disrespect outraged him, but he clenched his hands into fists by his sides and miraculously managed to hold off on ripping the homeless piece of shit to shreds. 

Realizing that he should keep anything and everything given to him by his future husband, Wade slowly bent over to pick up the fallen penny. One good reason to not beat the crap out of the scum of the earth stood before him is the fact that he’d more than likely end up spilling his slurpee. And his off-brand Hostess cupcakes could very well end up being crushed to smithereens; their crumbs mixing with the puddle of piss on the pavement and making it look like someone went number one and number two in the same spot. The mental image would’ve had him laughing so hard he’d have to change his clothes, if not for the fact that it involved his favorite cheap, off-brand snack cakes being just a little bit _destroyed_. 

Oh, and he didn’t want to be tasked with having to dump not one, but _two_ bodies in the same night. Which, by the way, is the absolute _worst_ thing about being a mercenary. They make the... er, lifestyle seem so goddamn easy in movies. You know, the usual ‘break into wherever your victim resides, shoot them in the head and skedaddle’. But guess what, kids, that’s not how shit works in the real, non-cinematic world. You have to investigate and surveil your target for sometimes days ahead of the planned death-date (as Wade liked to refer to the day he kills his victim’s on), and you have to hack into their cell phone, computer, bank account, maybe follow them around for a few days, learn their schedule, find a discreet way to dump the body, or if they need to be alive for the particular job you were hired for; deliver their unconscious and severely damaged body to the person who’s paying you. 

So yeah, Wade was rightfully exhausted and wanted nothing more than to head home and take a much needed shower, rather than break some sack of dick in half. 

“You’re lucky I’m exhausted from slicing some other motherfucker in half and dumping the body a couple of hours ago, jackass, otherwise you’d already be nothing but a pile of freshly cut meat marinating in a puddle of cancerous piss.” He didn’t miss the audible gulp the homeless man emitted, or the way he attempted to covertly eye the amber colored liquid on the pavement just outside the store where Wade had just met the love of his life. There were very few doubts in his mind that Mr. Homeless and Douchey had been the one who’d urinated in front of the fine establishment we call 7-Eleven. 

“Oh, and word of advice, buddy,” Wade took a step closer to the surprisingly short man standing a mere four and a half feet away from him. “Don’t shit where you eat. Like, okay, I know you pissed where you sleep– but it’s basically the same thing.” 

The man did not respond in any way other than blinking and gawking at Wade. He has that affect on a lot of people. 

Feeling as though he’d gotten his point across, Wade slipped his new lucky penny into the small and useless pocket on the front of his jeans and made his grand exit. Which was really just him brushing past the old man and jostling him the slightest bit. 

He wouldn’t let their encounter ruin his good mood at having met the love of his life inside of the fine establishment he’d walked away from mere moments ago. He’d carry the memory of Nathanial until morning, as well as for the rest of his life.


	2. The Full Package

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everybody who read, kudosed, and/or commented on the first chapter! :) You guys are the best!

“Wait just a goddamn second—“ Wade exclaimed as he inspected his receipt from the night previous. “That hot piece of ass overcharged me!”

It seemed as though Nate had charged him $1.49 instead of 69¢ for his slurpee refill, which he would most definitely be going back and getting store credit for. And if that wasn’t an actual thing, he’d settle for a refund. Or like, eighty-ish cents back.

“Am I supposed to like, care or something?” Weasel deadpanned. He didn’t have time for Wade and his stupid mid-life crises. It was happy hour and he had a bar to run.

“Weasel, don’t you understand what this fucking means?!” When Weasel continued to stare at his friend unblinking, Wade continued. “It means Mr. Roboto loves me back! I mean, why else would he overcharge me?”

“Okay– I’m just gonna stop you right there because none of what you just said makes like any fucking sense, Wade. If this guy is as hot as you say he is, then why would he want some ugly motherfucker like you?”

“Because I’m like the full package, Weas! If you, y’know, ignore all this,” Wade explained, gesturing toward his scarred up face. Back in his Special Forces days, he’d been in an unfortunate accident wherein an explosive device had been activated and he’d been standing far too close to it while out on a particularly dangerous manhunt. His face and torso had been the parts of his body that’d suffered the most severe burns. Which was a real shame, seeing as those were the parts of him that were the most attractive, and were seen on a day-to-day basis. God, and he’d been so proud of how much hair he still had at his age. Not that he had been very old at the time of the accident, but his estranged mother once upon a time told him that his absent father went bald at thirty-two.

“I don’t know buddy, it’s kinda... Well, it’s the first thing anyone’d notice about you, and it’d kinda... It’s- it’s bad, Dude. I’m not even gonna sugarcoat it.” Weasel cleared his throat, looking a little sick after imagining making out with his best friend’s ugly mug.

“I appreciate you keeping it real with me, Weas, but I don’t think he’s as big a dumbfuck as all the other workers, and therefore wouldn’t have overcharged me by nearly a whole entire dollar. He’s in love with me, man. And since he wasn’t into the whole shacking up in the back room idea, it looks like I’ll just have to ask his sweet ass out on a date.”

“Whatever, man. Just think that you’re being a little bit fucking delusional again. Swear to God, this is just like that whole priest fiasco...” Weasel muttered, shaking his head as he drank from a half-empty beer bottle sitting atop the bartop that some dumbfuck had abandoned to go shack up with some other STD-ridden meathead in the bathroom.

“Hey, its not my fault I didn’t know Father Francis was totally het and married!” Wade countered, feeling like his best friend was using his past mistakes to attack him. Like, seriously, how was he supposed to know that the priest at his local church he never visited was heterosexual, married, and wouldn’t be swayed by Wade’s charm?!

In the beginning, the old man had been so flirty with Wade; leading the mercenary to believe he was interested whenever they bumped into each other at the grocery store, asking the poor little burn victim if he had a moment to speak about their lord and savior Jesus Christ.

Wade hadn’t known a single detail about the man’s personal life until he’d up and grabbed the priest’s ass in the chip aisle and went in for a smooch. He’d gotten slapped pretty hard that day. Not only physically, but mentally, too. He’d gotten a real earful about how toxic homosexuality is, and heard all about the man’s arthritis, wife, grandchildren, great-grandchildren he’d lost faith in, and his anal fissures that should’ve kept him bedridden for the rest of the week, but he just had to have his Doritos.

“He’s a goddamn priest, Wade! They’re all straight and married!”

“Oh, and how the fuckshit was I supposed to have known that? I’d only ever seen them in porn, damn it!” Wade bit back. “Know what, Weas, we’re so not having this argument again. I’m going to go and not only get store credit, but my man!” He shouted over his shoulder as he exited the bar owned by his best friend. Or at least who he’d thought was his best friend.

“I’ve got some news for you, Wade, store credit doesn’t fucking exist at 7-goddamn-Eleven!”

 

***

It wasn’t one in the morning as it was the last time Wade had driven to 7-Eleven, but he had high hopes that Nate would be hunched over the register, cute little scowl in place.

He had none such luck as he exited his vehicle and sauntered over to the scuffed and scarred glass doors. A short Indian man stood in Nate’s stead, reminding Wade a lot of his old cab driver. But not in a racist way or anything quite so bigoted.

I mean, who was Wade to judge? Just look at him and all his glory, why don’t you.

Instead of turning back the way he came and heading home with his head hung low in shame, he shook himself out of his disappointment at his future husband not being on shift and pushed on the smudged door; feeling stupid when it didn’t budge and he had to instead pull on it. It felt as though the universe was mocking him. Not to the same degree as his best friend, but it still made him ache in all the places he thought were numbed by the explosion from nearly a decade ago that very well could’ve taken his life.

He waved his cup at the cashier so the man would know that he’d brought his own and wouldn’t be so ignorant as to charge him extra for it, on his way to the back where the slurpee machine was kept. This time, he filled it with cherry as well as mutant. His two favorite flavors.

As always the two being mixed together caused some kind of chemical reaction and the cup began to overflow like a goddamn volcano. He licked all around the lid, sucking up all the red, juicy goodness. He then stuck an extra long red straw in it, both loving and hating the way the particular hue reminded him of the nickname the love of his life had given him less than twenty-four hours ago.

Shaking himself out of his conflicting thoughts and feelings, he grabbed a handful of napkins to sop up the red syrup staining the lid and cup in his hand. Every sane person in a billion block radius was out partying and or drinking on such a fine Friday night, so there was no line at the checkout to burden Wade.

“Last night, I bought a slurpee refill and got like, super overcharged.” Wade explained, handing over his precious receipt as proof.

“Uh, I don’t think so. Refills are supposed to be $1.49. Sir.”

“There’s a sign on the display that says otherwise, bucko,” he sassed, though there was no real heat behind his words. He just wasn’t feeling it today. “You can go check if you want. I know for a fact that it says 69¢. I remember because one, it’s cheap, and two, it’s a really great sex position.”

The man stared at Wade in utter contempt before throwing his head back and releasing a guttural groan that sure as hell looked and sounded like it hurt. But the man seemed as though he was fine, just an asshole Wade wished to mince with his katana which were (sadly) hidden beneath the false bottom in the trunk of his car.

When the dickhead — Rishi — was finally done groaning and glaring at him, he grabbed a pencil from a cup and used the side missing its eraser to slide the slurpee cup toward Wade. “Just take your crap and leave, man.”

“See Weas, I was right! They do give store credit!” Wade shouted, exacerbating the notion that everybody who shopped at such a fine establishment was a psychopath who wanted to drink every last once of red blood cells from the cashier’s body with a slurpee straw.

“Uh, we fucking don’t, but you’re annoying as hell and I don’t really wanna deal with you and your oversize baggage full of complete and utter crap.” Said Rishi in a vicious tone that would’ve sent Wade on a violent rampage half an hour ago, but at this very moment hardly registered in his brain as anything more than a rude remark made by a braindead dick asking for the middle finger.

So, Wade flipped the man off as he picked his full, sticky, napkin covered cup off the counter and took a long, lewd sip from the straw as he headed out the door. And, as he stepped foot off the threshold, he realized that Mr. homeless-and-asking-for-death was now camped outside in his spongebob squarpants beach-chair that Wade was more than a little envious about.

“Why so sad, bitch? Aw, is it because your wrinkly old goose isn’t here today? Guess what motherfucker, he has Friday’s off because he isn’t a complete and total loser like you. He’s just a really damn big loser, is all.”

Ignoring the sacrilegious words pouring from the no doubt avid cartoon-watcher’s mouth, Wade stooped to the man’s level (literally) and posed a very important query that could mean two bucks of a broken leg to the man sat before him with little to no (zero) survival instincts. “What days do the love of my life work on?” The man was dumb, not deaf, and could obviously tell that the question was little more than a thinly veiled threat, but merely laughed in Wade’s face; all three of his teeth on display. They were small, yellow, and made his stomach rumble as they reminded him of corn. Which meant he’d have to stop by the scary grocery store that was open late on his way home to pick some up, and then he’d have to go through the process of boiling them in hot water which hardly seemed worth it at such a late hour—

“I’ll tell your stalker-ass if you give me whatever’s in your left front pocket.”

Wade blanched, trying to remember whether he’d taken the penny Nate had given him out of his tiny pocket inside the bigger pocket of his jeans or not. He gulped, not knowing whether it was worth it to risk having to give up his most prized possession other than his katana, or to play it safe and stop by the convenience store, the very fine establishment known as 7-Eleven, everyday until he learned Nate’s schedule.

If he went with option number two, it’d be just like his job. He’d scope out the place, watch who comes and goes, write down when Nate in particular comes and goes... It could be like a little side job he doesn’t get paid for but may or may not be rewarded for in the long run.

“I think I’ll take my chances, Spongebob.” Wade spoke in a hoarse whisper, like a man who’d been stranded in the desert without a drop water for ten days and is just now speaking his first words since finding sweet, sweet salvation.

“If anything, I’m Squidward!” Hobo guy yelled after Wade on the way to his beat up car he loved more than... Come to think of it, he actually kind of hated it.

Once inside the safe confines of his vehicle, giant Slurpee cup inside its designated cup holder, Wade decided to slip his hand inside his tiny pocket and then the large one on the left side of his body.

Between the two, he found a paperclip, sixteen cents (none of which were his special penny), and a c-cell battery. Damn it. He could’ve chanced losing the penny and have gotten his way. Would’ve easily learned the days his sweet works on as well as his schedule. But this could be fun. It involved a hell of a lot more effort... but it could turn out to be quite beneficial. And that was really all that mattered.


	3. Forever Alone

After an entire _week_ of surveying the convenience store, Wade felt defeated. He was exhausted, starving, stinky and wanted nothing more than to catch a single glimpse of his sweet, sweet Nathanial. 

But he had no such luck. 

Wade kicked a small chunk of gravel that’d come loose from the parking lot, letting out a sigh of frustration. “Ah, fuck. Maybe Weasel was right. Maybe... maybe I was wrong about Nate loving me back.” 

He glanced inside the fine establishment once more, seeing the same guy who’d been a complete dick to him his entire week of surveying, but _had_ given him a free slurpee refill last week because his future husband had obviously purposefully overcharged him so he’d remember him and come back to claim his heart. 

Tearing his eyes away from the heartbreaking sight of a Nathanial-less convenience store, he took off his dad baseball cap and threw it in a ominous looking puddle on the ground by a silver Prius. 

He was _so_ done with this whole surveillance thing. Nate was gone, and... Weasel was right. Why would anyone in the right mind be interested in _Wade_? He was a broken, scarred up man. Not just his body, but his soul too. 

“Dammit, Nate,” he whispered down at the piss puddle his horrendous hat lay in. “I really thought you were the one...” 

No longer caring about his baby-boomer perverted dad disguise, Wade stomped on his soiled baseball cap, getting his white tennis shoes wet with what was most definitely urine. Guess he’d be changing into his normal, non-pedophilic looking clothes before heading to TGI Friday’s for comfort food and drinks. 

***

As soon as he entered the restaurant he was accosted by an employee with a couple of menus in her hand. “Table for one?...” 

Wade grimaced, thoughts drifting back to Nathanial and the fact that he didn’t love him back and he was destined to be forever alone. “Think I’ll just sit at the bar, if that’s alright.” 

She pursed her lips, looking him from head to toe with a gleam in her eye that suggested she was judging him. It’s alright, he’s used to it. “Of course, sir.” She smiled a big, fake smile as she gestured toward the open bar. Wade, wanting to get to the bar to ingest multiple drinks and baskets of fries, merely rolled his eyes and made a beeline for the dimly lit section of the restaurant. 

He slid onto the barstool, ordering two shots of tequila before the bartender even turned around. The man stood before him, tight black t-shirt hugging his sexy back in all the right places, muttered a quiet “Shit,” before turning to face him. 

“Natey?” Wade spoke in a broken whisper, looking the love of his life from head to hips. “What– what’re you doing here? I thought... Why’d you quit your job at 7-Eleven?” 

Closing his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath, Nate prepared for what would be... a fairly difficult thing to explain to someone he’d only met once and hadn’t planned on seeing ever again. 

“Look, man... I–“ he suddenly cleared his throat, straightening up as though a pole had been inserted into his butthole, diminishing the natural curve of his spine, and giving him the expected military stance. What Wade found strange was the fact that Nate hadn’t been standing stick-straight to begin with. Mr. Sexy Cyborg then turned away, coming back a moment later with not two– but _three_ shots of tequila. He downed one and slid the other two toward Wade. “Don’t owe you an explanation.” 

“You broke my fucking heart, Nathanial. You owe me one _hell_ of an explanation.” Making strong, unwavering eye contact with Nate, he downed both shots in quick succession. No surprise to him, they didn’t burn on their way down. His accident in the field a decade ago took away his ability to feel the burn. But, luckily, he can feel cold stuff when it goes down. Hence why he buys a slurpee anywhere between five and seven times a week. 

They make him feel. 

Nate made him feel. 

And then he broke his fucking heart. 

A foot away from him came a soft grunt and a muttered; “Jesus Christ.” 

“Hey! Don’t bring him into this, buddy. This is between you and me.” 

“You’re _insane_ , man.” 

“Insanely in love with you, baby,” Wade winked, though it didn’t have the same passion it usually did. He was hurt. Nate hurt him. He spent seven goddamn days surveying the convenience store and the neighborhood surrounding it. “And... not to mention insanely hurt.” 

Nate swiped a dry rag along the bar top, cleaning up the small rings of water left behind by the shot glasses. He then laid his non-prosthetic arm along the wooden bar top, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry to hear it, man.” He broke eye contact, focusing instead on the freshly wiped down bar top; looking genuinely... something. It vaguely resembled remorse. His mouth opened and for a millisecond, it looked as though he was gonna say something but backed out at the last second. 

And Wade was gonna use that moment of weakness to get exactly what he wanted. There was still a small smidgen of hope— part of him that still believed Nate could be in love with him. “If you were truly sorry, you’d give me an explanation.” 

Sighing and rubbing a hand down his face, Nate responded in the deep, low, sexy grumble in which he always spoke in. “I get off in fifteen if you maybe wanna talk about it over drinks.” 

Wade felt a warm, soft flutter in the pit of his stomach and knew for certain that his heart had been captured by Nathanial. 

“You mean, like a date?... And where, here? Or should I go home and slip into something a little nicer, sexier, and meet you at this super-secret bar you’ve yet to tell me the name of–“ 

“No. Yes. And please, for the love of _God_ , don’t.” 

“Aww, you hear that? He likes us just the way we are!” Wade shared a giggle with the voices inside his head, and then glanced up only to find that Nate was already watching him; a curious, not completely closed-off expression adorning his handsome face. “Alrighty then, Natey. I’ll wait until your shift ends to get shit-faced.” 

Nate cracked a wry smile, muttering something about having made a huge fucking mistake — or something along those lines — to himself. 

*** 

Basket of fries in hand, Nate slid onto the vacant barstool to Wade’s right; the drinks they’d ordered from the new bartender laid out before them. 

He set the food between their arms on the bartop, eating a few before clearing his throat and opening his mouth to speak before he abruptly closed it and downed a shot. “Sorry,” muttered Nate. “If I’m gonna do this, I gotta get buzzed first.” 

“Is it because of my face? Cause I could maybe like cover it for now, if you want. Even though you’re already totally and completely in love with me and stuff, I get that it usually takes awhile for people to get used to looking at it.” 

“The hell are you talking ‘bout?” Nate said, looking a little alarmed, but for the most part, confused. “There’s nothing wrong with your face, man. I’ve gotten plenty of scars and... and other injuries out on the battlefield. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.” Wade couldn’t help but notice the way Nate eyed his metal prosthetic arm (that was the same length and width as his non-prosthetic arm) after he’d finished speaking. 

It touched him that someone would say something so kind to him without a single ounce of pity in their voice or eyes. It seemed as though Nate was being genuine; empathizing with rather than apologizing to Wade. 

“You ex-military, too?” 

“Yeah,” the elder nodded. “Though I spent most of my years in Special Forces.” 

“Same here,” Wade let out a humorless laugh. “It’s how I got in the accident that ruined my life and got me honorably discharged.” 

“Same here.” Nate clenched and unclenched the first he’d made with his prosthetic metal arm, causing it to make soft little whirring sounds that Wade hadn’t noticed until just now. It both broke his heart and filled it with a full, warm feeling he hadn’t known he could have or deserve. He still wasn’t sold on that last one. He’s done a lot of bad things in his life. Still does, even. Clearing his throat, the ex-7-Eleven employee and the love of Wade’s life tried his hand at changing the slightly uncomfortable subject. “Anyway, um, back to the reason I quit my other job–“ 

“Hey, that’s right! Why did you quit, huh? It wasn’t to get away from me, the love of your goddam life, was it, Nathanial?” 

“As I was _saying_ – I’d given my two weeks notice exactly two weeks before you’d first came in, meaning that when my shift ended that night, I no longer worked there.” 

“But– 

“And before you ask _why_ I quit, it’s because I had two jobs. One of which I no longer needed since I’d gotten a raise here, and, no offense, but only freaks and weirdos shop at 7-Eleven. I mean, this guy once came in asking if he could get store-fucking-credit because he’d been overcharged for a goddamn can of _Pringles_.” 

“So it wasn’t because of us... Which means there’s still a chance he loves me!” Wade said just a little — a _lot_ — too loudly. “Oh no, I hear ya, babe. This one time, I went there on free slurpee day, and this guy that was there took off his fucking _Crocs_ to use as a cup. I mean, can you believe that?” 

“I actually can believe that,” Nate shook his head, grabbing a few fries and eating them to hide the small grin threatening to spread across his face. “And trust me, if you work there you see all kinds of characters. You being one of the most memorable, if I’m being honest here.” 

“Aww, Natey... That’s one of the nicest things anybody’s ever said to me,” Wade practically cooed. “Maybe even _the_ nicest. Which, now that I’m saying out loud sounds _really_ fucking sad.” 

“Okay, if you’re gonna keep calling me that, which I pray you _don’t_ , you’re gonna have to tell me your name.” 

“The names Wade,” he picked his drink up off the bartop and downed it all in one go. “Wade Wilson.” 

“Wade...” the elder whispered as if testing out the name on his tongue. “Not what I was expecting, but go figure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Nate’s back after being completely absent last chapter! And he and Wade became... friends?! *gasps* 
> 
> Anyway, I have like the next few chapters for this fic written already. They just need to be edited. I suppose I’ll post once a week-ish cause I don’t wanna spam anyone with constant updates lol.


	4. Long-held Secrets

“Dammit, I’m gonna be late for happy hour.” Wade muttered through clenched teeth as he watched his victim through the scope of his bolt action rifle; lining up the crosshairs on the man’s head. 

Mr. Hill had been working late, and therefore had Wade completely off schedule. It’s been exactly one month since he’d found out that Nate worked at TGI Friday’s— one month since their life-changing conversation that lasted until the manager was forced to kick them out due to the restaurant being just a little bit, uh, _closed_. 

One month since Wade found someone he could really, truly be himself around. He wasn’t quite ready to spill all his secrets; tell Nate all about his lonely, sleepless nights, and the occasional nightmare-filled night where he does nothing but toss, turn and try to fight off the images— the memories of what he’s done. Which is ironic, considering he’s currently in a similar line of work. 

Though, if he’s being honest with himself, being a mercenary is a hell of a lot less traumatizing than being in the Special Forces ever was. Maybe... maybe it’s the money, or maybe it’s because he mainly kills assholes who deserve it, or most likely it’s because he works alone, doesn’t have anyone but his employer — and, okay, _sometimes_ the middle man, Weasel, but that’s not important right now — to report to. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t make him suffer from the same vivid affects as being in Special Forces did. 

Wade sucked in a deep, steadying breath, took his eyes off the scope for a moment to ensure Mr. Hill’s window his bolt action rifle was aimed at was most definitely still open, and released the breath as he fired the shot. His victim fell to the ground, blood gushing from the exit wound at the back of his head and creating a large puddle on the teakwood flooring; staining it red. This was the type of kill that needed a good cover-up, seeing as Mr. Hill was an important public figure. 

It would be an absolute _miracle_ if he could make it to TGI Friday’s before Nate gets off and goes home. Not that Wade doesn’t know where he lives... but he’s not gonna just randomly show up at the love of his life’s house without an invitation like some goddamn stalker. 

Unscrewing the suppresser from the tip of his rifle, Wade put all his tools back into their rightful places in his duffel bag before slipping on his red and black mask that matched the rest of his ensemble, and heading off the rooftop upon which he stood. 

He went around to the back of Mr. Hill’s house and headed inside using the key he’d had his guy make for him. His first order of business was to close the window in which he fired the shot through, after inspecting the inside and outside of the windowsill to ensure there was no evidence of ever having been tampered with. 

Raking his eyes across the expanse of the den with practiced measure, Wade ticked off each item on his mental checklist. All having to do with the placement of things in the room. He needed everything to look the way it usually did. Look like nobody had tampered with anything. Once he was finished with that, he opened his duffle and began to long and tasking process of cleaning up the blood spill. 

After all, he wouldn’t want to be _too_ insanely late for their one month anniversary. 

***

“Nate!” Wade called after the retreating figure. “Natey, wait up!” 

Wade stood outside the love of his life’s place of work at midnight, a couple of hours after the restaurant had closed; hoping to catch his sweet before he left for the day. the fact that Nate was still hanging around after-hours on a day he wasn’t scheduled to lock-up on was nothing short of a miracle. 

Had he stuck around just for Wade? If so, that’s the most romantic fucking thing anybody’s ever done for him and he owes his selfless future husband _big time_. 

“Wade? Where the hell have you–“ Nate abruptly cut himself off, looking uncomfortable as he pulled his shoulders back and stood a little straighter. It was his most obvious nervous tick. 

“I had to work late. And I don’t have your phone number, for reasons _you_ seem to think are ‘confidential’.” 

“What is your line of work? If you don’t mind my asking.” Nate raised a lone eyebrow, arms crossed in front of his muscled chest. Wade sensed the beginnings of a lover’s spat. Which would, of course, not be their first or their last. 

“I...” He trailed off, scrubbing a hand across the lower half of his face. “Look, Nate, it’s late, I’m tired... Can we just— not tonight? I drove all the way over just to see you.” 

Nate studied Wade’s expression closely, focusing so intensely on him that it almost felt as though he were trying to read his mind. Wade could get behind that, seeing as he believed in aliens, men in black, and the Illuminati. Plus, Nate’s given him many reasons over the course of the last month to suspect him of being a telepath or some shit like that. 

Taking a few steps closer to Wade until they stood a mere foot apart from one another, Nate set his jaw. “You’re right. We both went out of our way to see each other tonight, therefore we should.” 

“Is that a come-on, Nathanial? Because I’ve been waiting _weeks_ for you to give me the word—“ 

“Don’t make me change my mind.” Nate deadpanned. 

“I’m _just_ saying, Nathanial, if you want me, all you gotta do is–“ 

Nate suddenly grabbed him by the front of his shirt he’d changed into after dumping the body of his latest victim somewhere where it’ll (hopefully) never be found, and hauled him in the direction of his black pickup truck with the false silver ballsack dangling beneath the rear license plate. 

“God, I love it when he manhandles us...” Wade spoke in what he thought was a whisper but in reality was actually very loud. “So, honey, where are you taking us?” 

Getting in the truck and buckling up, Nate absentmindedly muttered a response. “Where do you think, Red?” 

“Chateau de Nathanial, house of sex, drugs and rock n roll?” 

“More or less.” 

“Looks like we’re gonna have ourselves a ball. But for now I’m just gonna go ahead and air these puppies out,” He rolled down the widow, sticking his suddenly shoe-less feet out the window. Until, of course, the window began to slowly roll up. “Nate!” He shrieked, retracting his legs before any danger could come to them. Though he knew his future husband wouldn’t have let any actual harm come to him. In fact, he’d stopped rolling the pane of glass up when it was the slightly more than halfway up and Wade had began to retreat. 

“If some reckless driver decides to speed past the passenger side, you might lose those.” The elder chided. 

“Aww, see, he _does_ care about us! God, I’m such a lucky guy...” 

“So, uh,” Nate cleared the frog in his throat. “What exactly do you and the voices in your head usually talk about?” 

“That’s a... rather vague question to ask. Even for you, Nate. But, if you must know, we usually talk about, well, anything and everything together, I suppose.” He shrugged, trying to think of an easier way to explain his situation to the love of his life. 

“And put your shoes back on— I just got this thing detailed.” 

“Sorry, honey, didn’t realize how afraid you were of my sweaty, mismatched socks soiling your precious car’s carpeting.” Wade rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. As much as he poked fun at Nate for having such strict rules about certain things, the guy had a point. Wade’s socks were _far_ from the cleanest thing in the world and, to be honest, the cleanliness of the man’s vehicle was kinda a huge turn on for him. Ugh, and don’t even get him started on the way the silver goddamn fox breathes heavily out of his nose when Wade won’t heed his warnings... 

“Wade, you know full well that those things haven’t been washed since you got them. And there’s a hole the size of my— _fist_ on one of them. Don’t even pretend I didn’t see it. I have one eye on the road and one on you at all times.”

Wade’s attention having been caught, he turned fully in his seat to face the driver. Well, as much as he possibly could while still being buckled. “That was quite the pause there, Nathanial. Anything you wanna tell me?” 

Grip infinitesimally tightening on the steering wheel, the driver ignored the other man’s question. “Just put your damn shoes back on already. Your boots are releasing a toxic stench that’s beginning to singe my nose hairs.” 

“God, Nate, you are _so_ into me it physically hurts to see you try and suppress your attraction, and, not to mention _love_.” 

“Right, the voices— You said you guys talk about anything and everything, right?” 

“Stop trying to change the subject, Nate. You do this every time I call you out on your bullshit—“ 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Nate grit out, thinking (hoping, really) that he’d effectively ended the conversation. 

“Fine, be that way, why don’t ya,” the merc mumbled petulantly. “Yes, yes we do. Why the sudden interest?” 

“It’s not a _sudden_ interest, Wade. Look, I’m just curious and trying to make some conversation. That’s all.” 

“Sorry,” Wade turned away from Nate to look out the window; at all the homeless people camped out under the freeway that made his heart ache for them just a little. He thinks he saw a kid with his father and their dog all huddling together for warmth in the fifty-two degree weather they’re having. It’s a real shame that the world took a swan dive down the shit hole about a decade ago. “It’s just... Its not you, babe. It’s... I don’t even have the words to explain it, honestly. I try not to think about what it means to be the way I am— to literally _talk_ to these voices in my head that sound like real, living people that don’t always have the purest of intentions, Nate. But... but when my thoughts really, and I mean _really_ begin to drift and I sit down and think about it, I realize that my accident could’ve caused some— some sort of goddamn anomaly in my brain that the doctors couldn’t detect in the CT scans. And it scares the shit outta me. It scares the absolute fucking shit outta me, so I don’t... really like to talk about it. But, if you must know, right now they’re talking about how sexy you look when you’re naked. Which, I know I’ve never actually _seen_ before — well, at least not _yet_ , anyway — but I am hoping to. One day. When you’re ready to take the next step in our courtship.” 

“First off, I’d really appreciate it if you would please stop talking about seeing me naked. And secondly, I’d... Ugh, fuck,” he sighed, slowing down the truck until he could safely pull over on the side of the completely deserted highway. He then killed the engine, unbuckled and turned to face Wade head-on. “Wade... you’re not dying. Sure, you may have a few screws loose, but that’s...” he broke eye contact, looking just past Wade’s right ear and out the window at something only he could see. “You’re not dying. But, if you’d like some piece of mind, I wouldn’t mind accompanying you to the doctors.” 

“I don’t know...” 

“You don’t have to decide right now, Wade. Just think about it.” Nate grimaced, reaching his non-prosthetic arm out to gently caress his friend’s shoulder. 

“Right,” the mercenary nodded shakily, one corner of his mouth twisting upward the slightest bit before he went back to biting down on his bottom lip. “Thanks.” 

“You really don’t have to thank me for anything, Red. And look, I’m... sorry for starting all this when I should’ve just minded my own damn business.” 

“And _you_ really don’t need to apologize for anything, Nate. It was... difficult to get it all out in the open, but there was a reason you were pushing so hard.” 

“No, I did need to apologize, you dolt. And hey, next time I’m being an insensitive dick– don’t hesitate to tell me.” He gently rubbed Wade’s shoulder for a moment that seemed to last forever before allowing his warm, callused hand to slide down the mercenary’s clothed arm until it reached the juncture between wrist and hand where he hesitated a millisecond before retracting it completely. 

Wade spoke nothing of the rather surprisingly intimate display of affection as the elder buckled back up and continued driving home. 

*** 

“Here,” Nate tossed Wade a bundle of used blankets as well as a pillow with an ominous yellow stain on it. “Don’t worry, it’s just from this one time I thought eating mac n cheese in bed was a good idea.” 

“Did you just read my mind?” Wade raised an eyebrow at the silver fox as he got to work on setting up his makeshift bed on the couch, which was cold and made of leather. all in all, it basically _made_ to have sex on. Screw Nate and goddamn celibacy, or whatever other dumb reason he had for not wanting to sleep with Wade. “I mean, how else would you’ve known I was wondering about the stain?”

Straightening his posture minimally, Nate narrowed his eyes at his houseguest. “No.” 

“Well I’m not so sure if I believe you,” Wade fluffed his borrowed pillow he’d be taking home in the morning for sentimental reasons, as well as at least one of the used blankets that literally _smell_ like his future lover. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that mind reading doesn’t exist?” 

“Nope,” Wade replied, popping the ‘p’. 

“Well, guess I’m just gonna go head off to bed then. Night, Red.” As he began heading off in the direction of his bedroom, Wade mumbled a rushed ‘wait’ that stopped him in his tracks. Before he could even begin to ask what on earth he could possibly want from him now, Wade closed the distance between them in two long strides; wrapping his long, muscled arms around Nate’s neck and pulling him flush against his body. Tip-to-tip, if you will. It knocked all the wind out of Nate’s aging body, giving him barely any time at all to react to their first hug that came out of virtually _nowhere_ , but he should’ve been expecting anyway, before Wade was sheepishly pulling away; head hung low as crawled under the sheets strewn across what would be his bed for the night. He didn’t look Nate’s way as he closed his eyes and buried his face in the borrowed (and soon to be stolen) pillow. 

“G’night, Nathanial.” Came the muffled response. 

Feeling more than a little confused and conflicted about what in God’s name just happened, Nate about-faced, bare feet softly padding across the wooden floor whilst he avoided all the creaky parts on the way to his bedroom with practiced ease. 

Lying face-down in bed wearing little more than his red and black checker print boxers, Nate contemplated his life and the direction it was currently headed in. He and Wade have been getting pretty close these last few weeks. Some might say a little _too_ close. Some, being a couple of his co-workers he’d never even spoken to before, and therefore should mind their own damn business and stop poking their noses where they don’t belong. 

He still remembers the first time he met Wade. He’d been working the graveyard shift at 7-Eleven, the bane of his existence, when the surprisingly tall man had swaggered inside the building, his boots making the most obnoxious squeaking sound Nate had ever heard in his entire adult life, as he made his way over to the slurpee machine and got cherry, as well as shopped around for a bit. 

If someone were to give Nate a pencil and piece of paper, he could paint them a very vivid picture of Wade and all his... glory at the checkout counter. He remembers a bag of Trolli gummy worms and specifically off-brand Hostess cupcakes which cost fifty cents less than the originals, and taste way better. 

He remembers a confident Wade who didn’t give a crap about what some grumpy old convenience store employee thought about his facial burn scars, openly hitting on him. God, the man in the black and red leather jacket had even gone so far as to proposition him. Quite literally asking if he wanted to ‘shack up’ in the back room. 

The smell of club soda was something he’d come to associate with whom he now considered to be a close friend. Which, now that he had time to sit down and think real hard about, was actually a little disconcerting. 

Club soda was what people used to get out bloodstains.

Wade could very well be a contract killer. 

Nate could very well have a serial killer sleeping on his living room couch. 

Which was almost as bad as the secret he himself has been keeping his entire life. 

One that nobody, and certainly not _Wade_ , needed to know. 

Thoughts drifting back to that night at his old, crappy place of work, he remembers blinking once, twice and then flat out refusing Wade’s offer for sex that more than likely would’ve been free. Not that Nate has ever had to pay anyone for that type of service or anything of the sort. 

Wade isn’t an unattractive man by any means. In fact, Nate thinks he’s quite the opposite, actually. He was no doubt traditionally handsome before his accident, but he was now... uh, non-traditionally attractive? Ick, no that sounds gross and doesn’t make any freaking sense. 

Wade... How would one begin to describe him looks-wise? He had kind eyes, a nice smile that wasn’t completely straight but had what Nate liked to think of as character. His nose was fairly straight and narrow, but not too narrow; a good shape. He had nice, high cheekbones, and lips that framed his reasonably white teeth just right. Add his burn scars and you have yourself a very manly, rugged, battle-worn veteran who was... Nate had to confess, quite handsome in his book. 

He’d turned the guy down for obvious reasons. One of them being that he’s just a tad bit nuts, and the other being that he hadn’t known a single thing about him, and... the fact that he’d probably never see him again since it was his last day working there, and he like _so_ wasn’t interested at the time. Okay, that’s a lot more reasons than he’d originally thought there’d be, but that’s alright. 

He remembers Wade’s reusable slurpee cup with a superhero on it who looked like a clown dressed up as a goddamn sex toy. Some of the contents had come running down the side of the napkin-covered cup as he scanned the items, accidentally overcharging for the drink but feeling too lazy to fix his mistake. 

God, and after Wade had left he’d gone and opened the cash register, taking out a dollar bill and dropping a couple of dimes from his own pocket into their rightful slot so he could keep the dollar as... as what exactly? Well, even Nate didn’t know the answer to that. Could’ve been a souvenir to celebrate his last day of working in that shithole, or it could’ve been... It very well could’ve been to remind him of that character that’d come in that night and flipped his world upside down. He carried it around in his not-fanny pack at all times, which was kept in his locker at work a majority of the time. And when he fell asleep at night it was right by his head. Like it was right now. 

When Wade had left the building that night, promising to come back everyday to see him, he’d muttered a quiet ‘shit’. He still doesn’t know if he’d said it because he’d more than likely never be able to see the complete and utter doofus again and was sad about it, or if it was because the thought of the man wanting to stalk him, and the fact that bumping into him in the area was a possibility. 

At this point in his life, he quite honestly didn’t want the answer to any of his burning questions. 

Though that was probably because deep, deep down, he already knew them all. 

“Shit.” He swore into his pillow, which, much like the one Wade was currently borrowing, had a few ominous yellow stains on it that were most definitely _not_ caused by eating Mac n cheese in bed. 

He almost felt bad for his friend before quickly remembering what a complete and utter perv Wade was and chuckled into the one clean white spot on his fluffy friend from Walmart. 

Before attempting to enter the dreamscape, aka sleep, Nate closed his eyes and focused on the man in the next room over who had just entered REM. It took a minute, and he had to sift through a lot of hyperactive surface thoughts, but he was eventually able to cling to a single, tangible thought. 

_Maybe Nathanial’s right... Maybe I _should_ go to the doctors with him_. 

Jesus, even in the guys sleep he calls Nate by a nickname. Or extended name? Full name. Since he was completely alone, no one around to judge him and tell him what’s right or wrong, Nate allowed himself to smile not only a smile of relief, but one of sadness as well. He just wanted Wade to okay. And he was rightfully afraid that if he stood by his close friend in the doctors office he’d get some bad news. 

A single tear slid down his face and onto his two-toned pillow, but he chose to not acknowledge its existence. His hands began to shake like they normally did when he was having flashbacks, though no painfully vivid memories accompanied the jitters this time. To help with the sudden bout of... nervousness? he screwed his eyes shut and tried focusing on his breathing as his fingers found purchase on his pillow. 

And if he accidentally ripped one side of the pillow with the force of which he clawed at it, well, nobody was there to bear witness to his rare moment of weakness.


	5. Assumptions and Insecurities

Seven in the morning rolled around a lot quicker than Wade had been expecting it to; causing him to squint against the light filtering in through Nate’s half open venetian blinds. Rolling out of his makeshift bed, he nearly killed himself falling onto the coffee table he’d forgotten existed, and headed over to his host’s bedroom. Nate was lying face down in bed, blankets and... feathers strewn across the bed. A pinched, almost pained expression adorning his handsome face that was turned the side just enough that Wade could actually see it. 

Wade wished to crawl in bed next to the army veteran and just hold him. Let him know— No, _make_ him believe that everything was gonna be all right. Nate may be the apple of his eye as well as the love of his life, but he couldn’t cross such a huge boundary and just crawl into bed beside him. 

Wade knew that after the stunt he pulled last night... well, he couldn’t afford to be shot down by his sweet once more. Nate may love him back, but he hadn’t hugged him back and it hurt more than Wade thought something so small and insignificant could. 

So, making the difficult but wise decision, Wade left the room that he hoped would one day be theirs, and headed back over to the couch where all his crap lay. He first half-assedly folded two of the blankets and neatly folded the third one that’d barely touched him last night and smelled like his future lover. He placed the pillow atop the third blanket, slipped his jacket and boots back on and rummaged around the kitchen for something to carry the stuff he was stealing from Nate in. He eventually came across a black tote bag that had no logo or design on it and shook his head at how bland yet predictable his Natey could be sometimes, and gently laid his crap inside it. 

He was about to head out the door without much of a plan on how to get home — maybe call an Uber or something — when a gravelly, sexy voice that was impossibly deeper than usual from sleep stopped him in his tracks. 

“Where the hell’r you going, Wade? Aren’t you gonna stay for breakfast?” 

Turning to face the arousing voice of his future lover, Wade’s jaw dropped in shock and mild embarrassment as he began to grow in his pants at what the man was dressed in. Nate’s smooth, muscled chest was on display for the whole world to see. The only article of clothing other than underwear that adorned his body being a worn-in pair of flannel pajama pants. His hair was messy (and looked a hell of a lot like just-got-fucked hair if you asked Wade), almost as if he’d slipped on some bottoms to make himself decent and hadn’t had time to look in the mirror before he’d dashed out of his room to catch the mercenary before he left. Which was a heartwarming and like super duper romantic thought. 

“Uh... I just thought that after last night you’d want me gone before you woke up.” He admitted, stepping away from the door and flopping back on the couch, his tote bag landing haphazardly on the floor. 

“Wade...” Nate said with pleading eyes, all but begging the man clad in red and back to not make him say it. Sighing in resignation, the older man opened his mouth a couple of times until he could utter a coherent sentence. “I was quite honestly in shock about the whole thing. Didn’t get a chance to, uh, return the favor.” 

“So you don’t...” _hate me?_ , Wade finished in his head, though it seemed Nate heard everything loud and clear. 

“‘Course I don’t hate you, Red. Sure, you can sometimes be annoying, impulsive, and just all around irritating— but no, I don’t hate you.” 

“Sorry I tried to escape while you slept sexily... uh, peacefully.” Wade smiled sheepishly, remembering just about everything from last night and wanting nothing more than for the floor to swallow him whole. He told Nate about not just the voices in his head, but what it all could mean for him if he is ill. He had no idea that something as simple as being in love with someone could be so damn difficult— so draining. 

But he’d made up his mind on the matter. He would allow his sweet to accompany him to the doctors. He needed someone to take him by the hand and guide him through what would be one of the most difficult days of his life when the day finally came, and who better to hold his hand then his Natey? 

“S’all right, Wade. I get it.” Nate went around to the island and began pulling out supplies such as a big bowl, measuring cups and spoons as well as flour, water, eggs and a ton of other crap he apparently needed. 

Guess he understood Wade’s insecurity about people wanting him around fairly well. Oh, and was also making pancakes. Which was a really great snack to have after having sex. Not that he’s gotten any in ages. God, why can’t Nate just let go of his sanity and fucking nail him already? It’s literally killing him. 

“Chocolate chip, please.” Wade mumbled, though the other man still heard and acknowledged him with a curt nod.

Soon there were plain and chocolate chip pancakes stacked atop plates on the table while Wade fought to control his hard-on under the table as Nate attacked his breakfast with vigor. God, is he sexy... 

Whimpering softly under his breath, Wade left his dick alone and got started on the tall stack laid out before him. And if it hadn’t already been established that his future husband is a sex god, well, his cooking sure as hell would’ve solidified it. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He spoke around a forkful of heaven. If he and Nate were sexually active... this would be their designated post-coital food. Because God _damn_. 

The man sat beside him quirked an eyebrow, steely gaze swimming with mirth. “Something wrong with the food, Red?” 

“Are you kidding me right now? Nate, this shit is— better than fucking sex!” 

“Woah there, Wade, I think you owe a lot of unlucky people hand-delivered apology gifts.” Nate chuckled, the sound gentle yet gruff at the same time. It wasn’t often that he allowed Wade to see the humorous side of him. Well, at least not the side that _laughed_. But as soon as it began, it ended. Nate went back to eating, but had now slowed down enough to use a fork. 

“Hey!” Wade lightly shoved him. “I love sex just as much as the next guy, but some of my... conquests were what some would call ‘subpar’. S’not my fault they don’t know how to move with the groove. And these pancakes are the better than any orgasm I’ve ever had, so thanks, babe.” He placed his hand atop Nate’s prosthetic metal one that rested atop the table, giving it a light squeeze. His future husband narrowed his eyes at him and breathed heavily out his nose. And when Wade _still_ didn’t get the message — or chose not to — he retracted his surprisingly warm metal hand. 

The silver fox suddenly scooted his chair back, the screeching causing Wade to flinch. “I’m gonna go hit the shower. Please, for the love of God, don’t break anything while I’m gone.” 

“Babe, you knew going into this relationship exactly what you were getting yourself into. If you wanted your place to stay clean and un-broken, you shouldn’t have invited me to stay the night.” 

His host merely blinked at him before turning on his heel and marching in the direction of his bedroom. “Fifteen minutes until we leave. Be ready, Red.” 

*** 

They arrived at TGI Friday’s by eight, Wade pulling his sweet into a tight hug directly in front of the building; a couple of Nate’s co-workers giggling at them behind their hands. It was embarrassing, but Nate hugged him back nonetheless. 

One of Wade’s large, callused hands found its way to Nate’s ass, gently squeezing the firm bun until the elder pried it off. Only for Wade to grab hold it once more a millisecond later. 

“Alright, you’ve had your fun, that’s enough, Red.” Nate grumbled, placing his hands atop the other man’s shoulders and pushing him away. 

“You’re no fun,” Wade pouted, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking past Nate’s ear into the front door of TGI Friday’s. He saw a black woman with an awesome afro giggling, the asian girl standing beside her who had stick straight pink and black hair smiling brightly and waving at the two men. “Oh my god, Natey! Are those your friends? I wanna go say hi!” He waved cheerily at the two women, a wide smile present on his scarred up face. 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“But Nate, you’re my future husband! Shouldn’t your future fiancé be able to meet his future fiancé’s friends?” Wade countered, arms akimbo. 

Nate didn’t deign to acknowledge the younger man’s delusions, choosing to instead move their conversation along so that he could get to the meeting he’s no doubt going to be late for. 

“No.” 

“God Nate, it almost kinda feels like you don’t want me to meet your friends.” 

“They’re not my friends, and you’re _not_ my— Look Wade, I have a meeting with my boss I need to get to, but I’m free afterwards. So go home, get out of those stinky clothes, take a shower, throw out your disgusting socks, and I’ll pick you up at ten.” 

“But I love them!” Wade protested, glaring intensely at the man who’d captured his heart. 

Nate sighed, reaching a hand up to rub across his eyes and settle on the bridge of his nose to pinch it. “I will _buy_ you new ones if you give me proof that you’ve thrown them out— or better yet, burned them.” 

“Alright, fine. But only because I love you so much.” He took a step closer to his bionic future hubby and attempted to wrap his arms around Nate’s neck, before the latter took a step back. 

“Not right now, Wade. I’m leaving, and I will see you later.” The older, grizzlier man walked toward the entrance of the yet to be open restaurant, glancing over his shoulder to make lingering eye contact with his friend before heading inside. Nate could feel hurt radiating off of him in waves as Wade ripped his gaze away from the glass doors of the restaurant and headed in the direction in which he’d parked his car last night; head hung in shame. 

A thought that was not his own came to mind. 

_Great, just like everybody else I’ve ever known, my future husband is embarrassed to be seen with me._

The moment was interrupted by a smack to the back of his head. “Nathan, dude, what the hell was that?!” His co-worker, Domino, shouted in his good ear. 

“What was what?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe you totally fucking disrespecting your boyfriend about thirty seconds ago because you’re an idiot.” 

“He’s _not_ my—“ 

“She’s right, Nathan. That was cold.” Said Yukio. 

“What was cold? I just didn’t want him getting all handsy with me in front of my co-workers. I have boundaries, and he crossed them.” Nate explained, though he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d been a bit... well, he hadn’t been as nice as he could’ve to his friend. He knew that if his nosy co-workers had seen the two of them together they’d start asking questions. 

Questions he doesn’t have the answers to. 

Such as why he allows Wade to grab his ass in the first place if they’re not actually dating. Or why it is he allowed himself to relax when he (officially) hugged the younger man for the very first time; his stiff posture relaxing into something that most people considered to be ‘comfortable’.

“You say that now, but you didn’t push him off the first time he grabbed your ass.” Domino pointed out, a playful gleam in her heterochromatic eyes. 

“You know what, I don’t have time for this right now. I knew you two would act this way if you saw us together outside—“ 

“But you two are always so flirty whenever you’re hanging out at the bar, so we kinda just assumed you two were, y’know...” Yukio shrugged a shoulder, hoping that Nate would understand where her sentence was going and she wouldn’t have to elaborate. 

Sighing a long-winded sigh, Nate fixed both women with an unimpressed stare. “We’re not dating, and we’re not sleeping together, so can two _please_ knock it off with the whole making assumptions and snooping bullcrap?” 

His co-workers both began whistling, no longer looking his way— pretending that they hadn’t even heard him. 

“Fine. If the two of you see something ‘going on’ between me and Wade, just act like the adults that you are and straight up ask me what’s what instead of _telling_ me what you’ve deluded yourselves into thinking is the truth.” 

“Whatever, Nathan. Just thought you should know that you hurt your totally and completely platonic best friend’s feelings.” Domino said before walking off to get to work on taking all the chairs off of where they were upside down; the cushion part of them resting atop the tables. 

“You should get him a flower. I always love it when Ellie gets me one or six after an argument.” Yukio smiled brightly before stalking off in the opposite direction Domino went in to begin taking the chairs off the tables on the other side of the restaurant. 

“Shit,” Nate scrubbed a hand across his face, heading into the back room where his bosses office was located. However much his co-workers annoyed the hell out of him, they kinda had a point. He needed to apologize to Wade. 

Especially after hearing those... troubling thoughts he’d picked up from him. 

But he wasn’t gonna do something as stupid as to get him _flowers_. 

He rapped his knuckles against the wooden door stood before him, hearing a muffled ‘come in’ a moment later.


	6. First Official Date

“Feel like a goddamn idiot,” Nate muttered through clenched teeth, hands tightening on the steering wheel till his knuckles turned white. Beside him on the passenger seat sat a single daisy; the white and yellow flower he’d plucked from a potted plant outside his work mocking him. 

He could’ve taken Domino and Yukio’s advice with a grain of salt, but nooo, he just _had_ to be a little fucking compassionate dilweed and actually do what they told him to. 

God, why did he, out of everyone in the whole goddamn _world_ , have to be telepathic? Ugh, at least he had some semblance of control over it. For the most part, he had to be... emotionally and physically close to the person he was reading the mind of. And even then, it was mainly surface thoughts that he had to focus pretty hard on to hear in the first place. But, every once in a while he caught fleeting thoughts from strangers and sometimes even Wade. 

Wade’s thoughts, at least when Nate is around, are usually sex related, or have to do with delusions of the latter being his future husband. But sometimes they are also very deep and insightful. Like when he’s... er, reminiscing about his time spent in special forces.

It’s possible that Wade projects his thoughts more than your typical person due to the voices in his head that like to take the wheel that controls his words and actions. That and the fact that he may be physiically or mentally ill. Could be schizophrenia. Or it could be something as horrible as—

The screeching sound of the truck coming to a halt brought Nate out of his unpleasant thoughts. He’d apparently slammed the brakes while lost in thought; his forehead very nearly coming into contact with the steering wheel. 

“Dammit!” He swore, lifting his hands off the wheel only to slam them back down with enough force to rattle the entire vehicle. He was stopped in the middle of the surprisingly desolate (and unsurprisingly dirty) side street leading to Wade’s apartment complex, breathing heavily through his nose and tightly clenched teeth. He couldn’t, for the life of him, begin to understand what it was about Wade Wilson that— that made him lose control like this. 

He made him feel remorse for being a rude, selfish prick. 

He made him laugh when all he ever wanted to do was glower at anything that moves. 

He made him... Wade made him want to be a better person. He made Nate want to console him when he felt sad, share his food with him when he had a short break at work or was off for the night. He made Nate want to do things for him out of the goodness of his heart. Such as buy him new socks, or even... accompany him to what could very well be a life-altering doctors appointment they’ve yet to set. 

God, it almost feels like Wade’s onto something when he insists that Nate’s in—

A loud honk brought him back to the here and now. Grumbling every swear word in the book, he hit the gas and jolted forward before the prick behind him who could’ve fucking gone around him could honk again. 

He soon arrived outside of Wade’s building, deciding that he was gonna walk up to his door to pick him up rather than just honking until his friend yelled out the window for him to shut the fuck up before realization dawned on him and he shouted for his ‘future husband’ whom he ‘loves so much!’ to wait one moment while he doused himself in cologne. 

Delicate daisy clenched tightly in his work-callused fist behind his back, Nate rapped his knuckles against the splintered wooden door to his friend’s outdoor apartment. 

He still remembers the first time he came over. It was two... no, two and a half weeks ago, and when he was following Wade up the three short flights of stairs outside the building, he was taking two steps at a time and didn’t notice the low-hanging concrete platform above him, too distracted by wanting to catch up with the younger man, and ended up hitting the top of his fucking head. 

Wade had reacted exactly as Nate would’ve expected from him. He’d shrieked in terror and jumped down five stairs at once without breaking his ankles to be by his side. Gently cradling the back of the elder’s head, he said; “Are you all right, Natey-boo? Do you need me to kiss it better?” 

Nate had narrowed his eyes until they were but little slits on his face. “ _No_ ,” he grit out, stepping out of Wade’s reach and away from his wandering hands. “‘M not a damn baby, Wade. I’m fine.” 

“If you’re sure...” past Wade mumbled, reaching over to lightly rub Nate’s rapidly rising goose egg. He’d flinched at the contact; pleading with his eyes for Wade to leave well enough alone. “Sorry ‘bout that, Nate. That’s— that’s never actually happened before. Not even when my best friend Weasel first came over. And he’s way taller than you. And a dumbfuck.”

He saw how difficult it’d been for Wade to refrain from poking and prodding him, and had gained a bit of respect for him. At least the younger man knew when to back down from a fight. Well, at least most of the time. Some of the time?... Nate honestly couldn’t say, considering how heated an argument his friend had gotten into with that homeless man outside of 7-Eleven the first time they met. 

Back in present time, the splintered door that stood mere inches away from his face creaked open to reveal a Wade wearing clothes that (hopefully) didn’t smell of sweat and human musk. The smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. 

Taking a deep breath and releasing it oh-so slowly, Nate brought his hand out from behind his back; revealing the single, long-stemmed daisy he’d more or less been guilted into stealing for the younger man. Both by his co-workers and his own guilty conscience. 

Instead of outright accepting the flower, Wade gawked for a moment, then jumped so that his arms were wrapped around Nate’s neck; his ankles crossed by the small of his back. Which caused Nate to lose his balance and stumble backward a couple of steps; his lower back slamming into the ledge behind him and causing him to bend backwards marginally until he caught his footing and heaved himself back into an upright position. 

Grunting with the amount of effort it took, Nate walked them inside of the younger man’s apartment, stopping a foot away from the couch to toss Wade onto it. He landed horizontally, breathing heavily as he stared up at the Nate through half-lidded eyes. 

“That was _so_ hot.” Wade breathed out. 

Setting his jaw, Nate looked down to find that the flower he’d pilfered had gotten crushed against his chest in Wade’s attempt to... he doesn’t even know what; very few petals remaining. Picking the limp flower off his chest, he crouched down in front of the couch where his friend lay. 

“I’d like to start off by telling you to please not ever do that again— we nearly died. And secondly, I’d like to apologize for earlier. I didn’t... I don’t appreciate it when you grope me in public, Wade. Especially not in front of my nosy co-workers. But that doesn’t give me the right to make you feel like I’m embarrassed to be seen with you. I was only embarrassed because I knew Domino and Yukio would accost me as soon as I stepped foot over the threshold. Asking questions that I either don’t have the answers to, or that are so delusional and far-fetched they don’t even deserve one.” 

A wide grin spread across the younger man’s face as he fixed himself into a comfortable vertical position on the couch; hand reaching out to accept the bent but not broken flower. When Nate thought about it, the little thing reminded him a bit of himself and Wade. The flower was damaged and a little disfigured, but from a certain perspective it was also quite beautiful. 

“So what I’m hearing is you don’t mind if I grab it behind closed doors...” said with a Cheshire cat-like grin and a raised brow that made Nate want to turn back time so he could fall off the ledge and kill himself. 

“No.” he deadpanned, rising to his full height and grabbing Wade’s coat off the back of a chair. He tossed it toward his friend, watching as it landed atop his crossed legs. “Stop giving me that look and put your damn coat on so we can get the hell out of here.” 

“Alright, fine. But I’m only doing it because I love you,” Wade got to his feet, slipping his arms inside the sleeves of his zip-up sweatshirt. “And thank you for the apology flower, Natey-boo. It was very kind of you to declare your undying love and affection to me in such a romantic way.” 

Not wanting to reward Wade’s delusional behavior with a response, Nate exited the apartment and waited by the stairs for him. It didn’t take long for Wade to catch up; now wearing a beanie to cover his bald, scarred up head. It was fairly chilly out, and, as much as Nate appreciated the other man bundling up before heading outdoors, it was a tad strange that his friend had all of a sudden acquired self-preservation skills. 

“By the way, honey, where _are_ you taking me?” Wade asked as he caught up with him. 

“Haven’t decided yet.” 

“I have a couple of suggestions, if you wanna maybe hear ‘em.” 

“If you suggest something _sexual_ , I swear to god I will leave without you.” Nate said sternly, leaving no room for argument. 

“Do you really think that low of me, Natey?” He feigned hurt, scooting closer to the older man and wrapping his hands around his rock-solid bicep. Nate didn’t bother trying to push him off, seeing as they had finished descending the three flights of stairs; the elder’s parked pickup truck coming into view. “Know what, don’t even bother answering that. I already know the answer. I think that for our first official date we should stop by that McDonald’s on Whittier that just got renovated. Today’s actually it’s grand opening.” 

“I honestly feel sorry for you if you think going to McDonald’s for a first date is a good idea.” Nate chuckled despite himself.

Wade suddenly released him from his surprisingly gentle grip, jolting backwards to point an accusatory finger at him. “Aha! So you admit this is a date!” 

“I never said anything that would even _mildly_ suggest I was taking you out on a—“ Nate abruptly stopped speaking. Swiping the tip of his tongue along the seam of his lips, he made another attempt at speaking to the man-child stood before him. “Listen, Red, I’ll take you literally _anywhere_ but McDonald’s.”

Eyes as wide as saucers, Wade placed a hand on one of the the older man’s biceps and said in a serious voice: “Oh, honey, please don’t tell me you have something against animal slaughter.” 

Shaking his head at how ridiculous a thing to say that is, Nate brushed the other’s hand off his arm and grabbed ahold of his wrist to tug him in the direction of his truck. “If you’re not gonna take this seriously and pick a place, then I guess I’ll just have to.” 

“God, it is just so fucking sexy when he takes charge of a situation like that...” Wade bit his lip, back resting against the side of Nate’s truck. 

“Hey watch it, I just got this thing waxed a couple days ago.” He said warningly. 

Wade was kind enough to step away from it and go around to the passenger side door, only to violently rap his knuckles against the window a moment later. “Hurry up, Nate, I’m freezing my balls off out here.” 

“Now wouldn’t that be an improvement...” 

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck was that? I must’ve misheard you, seeing as you love me and my balls very much and would hate for anything bad to happen to them.” 

“Jesus,” Nate shook his head, unlocking his truck and climbing inside. It was no surprise to him when Wade picked up right where he’d left off and began to violently knock on the window once again. The man sat in the driver seat was quick to fix him with with a stern glare as he unlocked the doors. “Knock it off, Wade. It’s unlocked!” 

“Thank you,” he said, climbing up into the cabin with minimal difficulty. “We— I mean _I_ think that you should choose, Nathanial. Surprise me.” 

Sliding the key into the ignition and starting the engine, Nate turned to face his passenger. “Fine. But only because you’re literally incapable of doing it yourself.” 

“Oh, Nate, you’re just saying that. I know you secretly want our first date to be special. Something... memorable.”

Heaving a great big sigh as Wade began playing with the buttons that control the windows, Nate pulled out of the parking spot and hit the road. “It’s _not_ a—“ 

“You know, you’re not the only telepath in this car, Nate. I can practically _feel_ the love and adoration you feel for me coming off of you in waves.” 

Fingers tightening on the wheel, he briefly glanced at Wade in his peripheral vision to try and see if he was just blowing smoke, or if he really was onto him. Not about the whole love and adoration bull crap, but the telepathy. He didn’t purposefully try and read his friend’s mind all that often, seeing as most people considered it to be an invasion of privacy; and it took a lot of effort, and sometimes energy. 

“You’re not a telepath, Wade.” 

“That sounds a hell of a lot like something a telepath would say.” 

“Look, Wade, I’m just using logic here. Telepathy doesn’t exist, and even if it did, and you just so happened to be cursed with the ability, you’d constantly be blurting out everybody’s deepest, darkest secrets.” When Nate thinks about it, there’s a chance that the ‘voices’ in Wade’s head could be thoughts that other people are projecting and he just picks up on them. Though it is very unlikely, considering a lot of them have to do with Nate being naked. 

“Again, Nathanial, that sounds exactly like something a telepath would say,” Wade eyed him suspiciously. “I mean, you’re not really helping out your case here, buddy.” 

Nate ignored the white noise being emitted from the other’s mouth. Not wanting to dignify it with a response— reward annoying behavior. 

“You know you can tell me anything and it’ll stay between us, right, Nate? Well, unless of course, it’s that you love me. I’d scream that into the face of everybody I walk past for the rest of my life.” 

Nate continued to ignore him, slowly but surely growing agitated, though he wouldn’t let it show. 

“Are you ignoring me?” 

Silence. 

“You do realize giving me the silent treatment only further proves my point, right, babe?” 

“You’re being ridiculous, Wade.” Nate said, though he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at having to lie and deceive his best friend the same as he’s had to do to everyone else he’s gotten close to. 

“Really, Nate? Cause I think you’re the one being ridiculous.” 

“If anyone here is keeping secrets, it’s _you_.” The driver spat. 

“I— I have no clue what you’re even talking about.” Wade sputtered. 

“Really, Wade? Cause I think you’re hiding something from me.” 

Wade, for once in his life, was stunned silent. For a good minute he looked to be in careful concentration, likely weighing his options and choosing his words carefully. 

“Not right now, Nate. We’ll talk about this later. Just— not _here_. I don’t trust this thing.” Wade said, sounding dead serious. The most restrained the younger man has ever been around Nate in their entire one month of friendship. 

Nate considered lightly probing his friend’s mind to try and understand why he’s so afraid to tell him what he’s hiding while inside his pickup truck, but knows better than to pry. It’s an invasion of privacy, and he wants them to have a nice, non-problematic outing together. Besides, Nate can already guess what Wade’s hiding and just wants him to be able to come clean and say it to his face. Which is a very hypocritical pattern of thought, but Nate suspects his friend to be a contract killer of sorts. He certainly has the apartment of a serial killer. 

“It’s not safe. Our conversation could somehow be monitored.” Wade explained, almost as though he’d read Nate’s mind. 

“Alright. Later it is, then.”


	7. Loosening Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate takes Wade to the zoo for their ‘first official date’, and Nate learns (is forced) to ‘loosen up’. Loosening up doesn’t stop Nate from enquiring once more about his best friend’s top-secret occupation.

“Oh my god! You were right, Nate, this is _way_ more romantic than McDonald’s!” Wade shrieked in excitement, hands pressed up against the passenger side window as he stared out at the large sign with the word ‘zoo’ on it. 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” His future husband grunted, pulling into a parking spot big enough for his admittedly sexy pickup truck. 

Wade was quick to rip off his seatbelt and escape the confines of the truck before Nate could even kill the engine. He went around to the driver side to carefully open the door, as to not hit the car beside it, and gestured for his silver fox of a future husband to step out onto the pavement. 

“Hurry up, Nate! I wanna see the lions, tigers and bears— oh my...” he trailed off at the sight of a sliver of exposed skin by Nate’s hip. The tanned, smooth surface was practically asking to be touched, bitten and licked, though he managed to refrain from doing any of the aforementioned knowing that his friend would likely either A) ignore him for the rest of the day, or B) glare at him so intensely he’d burst into flames. 

Clearly having noticed Wade ogling him, Nate tugged on the hem of his white t-shirt until his gorgeous, tanned skin was once again obscured from the merc’s view. Pointedly clearing his throat, Nate used vague hand gestures to try and get the other man, who was blocking his exit, to scoot over so he could hop down onto the freshly paved parking lot. It took a bit of grunting and narrowing of the eyes, but Wade eventually got the message and did as instructed. Or, rather, did as motioned to. 

Nate locked all the doors and turned to face Wade, a cute little frown in place. Wade took it as a good sign that his sweet was less... agitated with him than he was half an hour ago, and grabbed hold of his flesh and bone arm’s bicep, his grip gentle yet still firm. The other man didn’t show much of an outward reaction to the sudden invasion of space, though his eye did twitch a little. 

“Not that I don’t absolutely fucking love that you brought me to the zoo for our first official date and all, but why the zoo?” 

“First of all, this—“ Nate gestured between the two of them then the enormous parking lot. “is not a date. And secondly, I don’t know. I used to come here with my family back when I was a boy, thought maybe you’d like it too.” 

“Aww, Nate! That’s so romantic... Taking us— me to a place that means so much to you.” Wade smiled down at the man he loved, who’d once upon a time overcharged him for a slurpee because he quite obviously loved him back. 

Seemingly ignoring everything Wade had just said (or choosing not to acknowledge it), Nate allowed the other to lead him in the direction of the ticket booth. 

Once there, Wade tightened his grip minimally on Nate’s bicep. There was a shit-eating grin on his face as he spoke to the bored employee behind the bulletproof glass; trying all the while not to break into a fit of giggles. “One adult and a.. senior, please.” 

Lifting a single eyebrow, the employee eyed the two men; likely trying to figure out whether or not Wade was being serious or not. 

To save himself from further embarrassment at having been called old, Nate gave his friend the side-eye as he prepared to handle the situation himself. “Uh, two adults, is what he meant to say.” 

“Alright, that’ll be $34.50, sir.” 

Before his babycakes could even think of reaching for his wallet, Wade placed his hand atop the silver fox’s ass and slid it down into his right cheek’s pocket. Nate emitted a vague sound of protest, trying to take back his wallet back before Wade could put forth his nefarious plans. 

But, much to the sexy cyborg’s surprise, Wade had other plans. He slipped the stolen wallet into his sweater’s pocket only to pull his own fat one out of the back pocket of his slim fit jeans. He slid forty bucks in ones beneath the bulletproof barrier, and received a few ones, some change, as well as two ticket stubs in return. Muttering a quiet ‘thanks’, Wade stuffed all the crap in his hand into his back pocket and hauled his honey off in the direction of the entrance. 

Immediately, Nate pushed him off, took back his wallet, and made a grab for his ticket stub. “The hell was all that about?” 

“I was just trying to do something nice for you, Nathanial. I mean, last night you let me sleep on your couch, then in the morning you made post-sex pancakes—“

“We did _not_ have—“

“And _then_ you let me keep one of your blankets and cum-stained pillows—“

“ _Excuse me_?” Nate said with raised eyebrows, positively scandalized. 

“Babe, stop interrupting me when I’m talking— it’s rude,” Wade admonished. “Anyway, as I was _saying_ — You drove me back to my car, which was also very convenient for you considering you had a ‘meeting’ with your ‘boss’, though I appreciate it nonetheless—“

“Does this story have an ending? Because I was hoping to at least visit one exhibit before they close. In nine hours.” 

“Yes, and I’d get to it a hell of a lot quicker if you’d just stop interrupting me.” Wade crossed his arms, fixing his future lover with a pointed glare. 

“Then please continue before I die of old age. Which shouldn’t be too long from now considering just how old you think I am.”

“What was I saying again?” Wade asked, no longer angry, but scratching at the back of his head in deep thought. “Let’s see, I said the thing about the couch, then the... Damn it, what came after it again? I know it didn’t have anything to do with frogs, because those things are disease ridden fuckers—“ 

“Seriously?” The supposed senior citizen muttered, scrubbing a hand across his the scarred up skin of his face. “You got to the part where you were insinuatIng that I’m having inappropriate relations with my boss at work.” 

“That’s right, I did!” Wade exclaimed with a snap of his fingers. “We’ll discuss your very unchristian affairs later— but right now I need to finish explaining myself, babe. Right, uh... You dropped me off, let me grab your tight little ass and hold you for a while before you had to go fuck Bill—“ 

“That’s not even his _name_ —“ 

“And you... you asked me out. Well, more like demanded I get cleaned up and wait by the door for you like a good little bulldog— but that’s not important. Oh, and you hurt my feelings too... but then you made up for it with that flower I accidentally crushed and forgot to put in water, oops. So yeah, I wanted to repay you for being the best future husband ever.” 

Shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, Nate heaved a great big sigh and grabbed hold of the younger man’s arm; dragging him into the zoo after flashing an employee their tickets. 

“Aren’t you gonna thank me?” Wade asked as a shiver ran down his spine from the physical contact his future husband had initiated. 

“For what? I’m _going_ to pay you back whether you like it or not.” 

“Not for _that_ , Nate. I have plenty of money to blow— I’m talking about my speech.”

“Right. That....” Nate trailed off uncomfortably. “Aside from the many inaccuracies and accusations, I must admit that it was... uh, kind?” 

“Damn right it was amazing.” Wade grinned from ear to ear, slithering his arm out of the other’s grip only to grab his flesh and bone arm and lace their fingers together. 

“Stop that,” Nate complained as me made a half-hearted attempt at trying to free himself from Wade’s firm grasp. 

“Not gonna happen, sweetie.” Wade brushed his thumb over his the back of his future husband’s hand, receiving a soft grunt of annoyance in return. “Let’s go get a map so we don’t get lost on our way to see the Elaphante shrew!” 

And just like that, Nate was being dragged off in the general direction of a small booth with maps and flyers for a new animal exhibit. 

*** 

“So, other than feeling like super duper guilty for how crappily you treated me earlier, why did you decide to take me out today? What, did you get good news from Bob and wanted to celebrate or something?” Wade said as he accepted his change from buying three churros. Two cinnamon, and one Bavarian cream. 

“That’s not his name, and yes, I did in fact receive some good news.” 

“Do tell, Nathanial,” Wade led them over to a table, making sure Nate sat down first so he could pick the chair closest to him. He held all three of his churros in one hand and took a gigantic bite out each at the same time. Which ended up taking literal eons for him to swallow, but it was _so_ goddamn worth it. 

“Got a promotion. Turns out my boss thinks I have an admirable work ethic, and believes I have what it takes to make the place run smoother now that I’m gonna be working longer hours, and five — sometimes six — days a week rather than my typical four to five.” 

“Are you serious? Nate, that’s amazing! And terrible since you’ll never have any free time again... But why’d he decide to give you the promotion now when you got a raise just last month?” Wade cocked his head to one side, taking another bite of his churros before offering them to Nate and receiving nothing but a dismissive wave of the hand and narrowing of the eyes in response. _Suit yourself,_ the mercenary thought to himself before taking another large bite. 

“Don’t know. Although he did mention something about me being older, and therefore a wise leader for the rest of the staff to follow.” Nate shrugged, eyes lingering a moment or two too long on the food clasped tightly in his friend’s hand. “God, Wade, how can you eat that crap without getting diabetes?” 

“Uh, first of all, that’s not how diabetes work, Nathan. That’s very insensitive to those unlucky few who have it. And second, it tastes good! You’d know that if you just decided to loosen up for once and enjoy the good things in life.” 

“Wade, I brought you to a zoo of all places. Aren’t I already ‘loosened up’ enough?” 

“Not until you’ve tried my churros, you’re not!” Wade reached out to slowly wave the churros back and forth beneath Nate’s nose, the latter not able to refrain from inhaling the snack’s sweet, surgery scent at least a little bit. “C’mon, Natey, just one bite. You know you want it...” 

Shaking his head, Nate fixed Wade with an unimpressed stare and blinked once before he spoke. “Alright, fine. But just _one_ , and then you have to leave me alone about the whole having to ‘loosen up’ bullcrap.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, babe.” 

Nate wrapped a hand around Wade’s wrist, bringing it closer to his mouth that was open wide enough to suck the merc’s di– uh, take a bite out of all three churro’s at once. He took his sweet time chewing, and finally swallowing the sugary garbage; Wade watching every second of it though half-lidded eyes. “Shit,” Nate swore, getting up from his chair to walk with purpose toward the churro stand. And, much to Wade’s surprise, came back a minute later with a plain cinnamon one. “You were right, Red. This shit is good.” 

“Did you not used to get them when you came here with your family or something?” Wade asked, his genuine confusion getting in the way of him rubbing it in his future husband’s face that he had been right all along. 

Chewing before he swallowed like some prim and proper choirboy, Nate hesitated a moment before shrugging a shoulder. “Growing up, we didn’t exactly have the means to visit the zoo _and_ afford to buy their overpriced food. We usually just brought our own. That, and by the tender age of five It’d been drilled into my head by my father that sugar is bad for you and rots not only your teeth, but all of your organs as well.” 

“If you were anybody else, I would make fun of you for buying into that bullcrap, but I just feel sorry for you. I mean, I grew up in a dirt-poor, sorry excuse for a family, so I guess I kinda understand where you’re coming from.” 

“Don’t. Feel sorry for me, I mean. I may not have had the richest family on the block, or the newest toys, or the tastiest, brand-name, tooth-rotting snacks, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything my parents _were_ able to give me.” Nate finished with a shaky exhale. Wade could tell just from the other man’s speech that speaking of his family was a bit of a sore spot. 

After an uncomfortable silence wherein Wade tried to think of absolutely anything to say to _that_ , Nate cleared his throat and tried his hand at changing the heavy subject. “Your occupation. I asked about it last night and you said to ask about it another time. It’s another time now, Wade.” 

A grim demeanor coming over him, Wade set his half-eaten churros down on the table and turned to give Nate his full attention. “Would this also happen to do with what you said back in the car?” A curt nod was his only response. Wade rubbed at his eyes for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “If I tell you, you’re not gonna want to be friends anymore. Are you prepared to hate me, Nate?” 

Seemingly thinking everything over for a couple of painfully silent minutes, Nate stared straight into Wade’s very soul. “If you say what I think you’re gonna say, then I think we’re gonna have to have a serious talk about it. Many, many times. But... no matter how hard I wish I could sometimes, I don’t think I could ever really, truly hate you, Red.” 

Covertly eyeing his surroundings and waiting until there was enough background noise to block out what he’s about to say from the ears of potential spies or even just passerby, Wade leaned into Nate’s personal space bubble and uttered the words he’d hoped he would never have to in the other man’s presence. 

“I’m a... I’m a mercenary.” 

“You kill people for money.” Nate spoke in a whisper. Though not one of disbelief. He’d said it as if he’d known about Wade’s secret all along. Which, if he’s a telepath like Wade’s been suspecting for quite some time now, that could very well be true. Which is a frightening reality. 

“More or less,” he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act as though it was no big deal, and to try and conceal just how much Nate’s words had affected him. “So, you hate me now or what? The suspense is kinda killing me, babe.” Contract killer

“There’s a big difference between suspecting your best friend of being someone who... who kills for money, and finding out that he actually does, Wade. What I need right now is time to mull things over, and when I’ve come to a decision as to how I’m going to go about things moving forward, I will call you. You’ll be fine taking an Uber home, right? It’s just— I need to be alone right now, and I’ve gotta get to work before too long.” 

“Yeah— No, yeah, totally. I get it, Nate,” Wade swiped a finger just below his left eye to try and covertly make a single drop of moisture produced from his tear duct disappear. “I’ll be fine. We visited most of the exhibits anyway. There’s just one teeny, tiny problem is all.” 

Nate raised a single brow in a questioning manner. “And what, pray tell, might that be?” 

“You don’t have my phone number.” 

Rather than bothering with an actual, verbal response, Nate simply handed over his phone that was unlocked and on the ‘add new contact’ page. It wasn’t long at all before Wade was handing it back, number saved in his future husband’s contacts under the name ‘Love of my life’. 

“I only kill people who deserve it. Just thought you should know. Y’know, in case that plays a vital part in how you make your final decision.” Wade rose to his feet, taking all three of his churros with him; head hung in shame. Nate stared after him until he was completely gone from sight. 

Rubbing his temples to try and alleviate the tension headache he felt coming on, Nate squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply through his nose and clenched teeth. He had been listening in on Wade’s thoughts, and it had ended up being a bit of an overload on his system. 

The other man had, in his mind, been terrified of Nate’s reaction, but also a little resigned. He’d been completely serious throughout their entire interaction, and so unlike himself. Or at least unlike how he’s been whenever Nate’s around. 

Before Wade had trudged off in the general direction of the exit, Nate had heard the troubling thoughts swirling around in his mind like a goddamn tornado. He’d been thinking about the doctors appointment he’s yet to set, and how he only wanted to go if ‘his Nathanial’ was by his side. It was such a sad way to think. It was almost like Wade saying he didn’t care about his own health or wellbeing if Nate wasn’t in the picture. It was a bit daunting, actually. Though Nate knew the other man was just scared of what results he may get. And, as far as he knew, Wade didn’t have any family in the picture, or a friend who’d be willing to accompany him, or even someone who _he’d_ want to be there with him. 

“Shit,” Nate swore, his metal fist clenching around the half-eaten churro in his hand and smushing it to smithereens. He threw it on the ground as he rose to his feet; a flock of pigeons immediately going after and attacking it. 

He had to get to work, pretend everything was okay for a few hours, then go home and drink himself to sleep over best friend, the man he’d entrusted with some of his best kept secrets. Or even just the small things he’s never had anybody to tell them to. Such as him growing up poor, for the most part, and going to the zoo with his family whenever they had the funds to expend. 

Nate had a deep, profound bond with the mercenary he couldn’t compare to any other friendship — or romantic relationship — he’s ever been in. One he wouldn’t trade for the world. But... he’s a killer for hire. 

He murders for a living. 

He has blood on his hands that not even bleach — or his likely favorite blood stain remover, club soda — could wash clean. 

But he only offs people who deserve it. People who deserve it... Politicians, serial killers, drug lords, pedophiles, rapists? Nate would guess all of the above. It would certainly explain the influx of unsolved, vicious murders these last couple of years. Although, most or all of those scumbags were reduced to nothing more that pork cutlets with how they were shot multiple times and cut up. It was sick. 

Then again, the people Wade killed also could’ve been the ones that were shot once in the forehead, or the bodies might never have been found and Nate’s just grasping at straws. 

Remembering once again that he had this little thing called _work_ he needed to get to, Nate brushed the cinnamon off his hands and tried not to look too long at the screaming monkeys on his way out of the zoo. They reminded him too much of the time, not three hours ago, when Wade had held onto his arm so tight and pointed at the screeching furry beasts in glee when they had stood watching them.


	8. Drunk and Lonely

‘Mulling things over’ turned out to be a hell of a lot more depressing than Nate had envisioned it being. When he wasn’t at work, waiting for Wade to come in and order some food and drinks at his usual time only to remember that he told the merc to leave him alone until he was ready to call him and talk, he was at home lazing around in... well, his underwear and _sometimes_ , if he was feeling particularly fancy — fancy being not a complete and utter slob — a stinky, stained t-shirt as well. 

He thought he could do it, live without the annoying mercenary he considered to be his best friend for an entire week, going on eight days in... two hours, but it turns out that he can’t. 

Crushing his fourth finished can of beer that night in his metal fist, Nate threw it across the room in a vain attempt at trying to get it to land in the overflowing recycling bin. Ever since that day at the zoo, he’s done nothing but work, drink, not sleep, think too hard, and hit up the dingy grocery store a couple blocks away for alcohol and peanut butter. 

If he were to call Wade and ask to talk things over, begin to hang out and trust each other once again, he would feel as though his moral compass has been thrown completely out the window. 

But if he _didn’t_ , he feared the empty feeling inside of him would never go away. The excitement and exasperation he felt when hanging out with the merc was what had once upon a time brought color into his boring, monochromatic life. 

So, he was at a bit of an impasse. 

He began to slowly lay down on the couch he sat atop, curling into a ball on his side and resting his hands beneath his cheek that was pressed against the shiny black pleather cushion. He couldn’t help but let out a loud yawn as he laid there and tried not to think for once. 

He tried, and he tried, and he _tried_ , but eventually — eventually being two whole minutes after he laid down — sprung to his feet in search of his phone, jacket, and keys. He was about to head out the door and drive to Wade’s when reality smacked him upside the head and reminded him he’d had far too many beers for it to be safe. 

“Dammit,” he stamped his foot; tossing his jacket and keys on the floor and dragging his ass back over to the couch littered in cliff bar wrappers and crumbs he didn’t bother to brush onto the floor. Pulling out his phone, thumb hovering over the contact with the name ‘Love of my life’ he hadn’t bothered to change, Nate contemplated pressing it for well over a minute until — and he swears on his _life_ — his hand spasmed and made the decision for him. “Shit, shit, sh—“ 

“Nate? Hello? Natey, is that you?”

Nate cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s me. Listen, I called cause I think I’m— No, I called because I’m finally ready to talk about it.” 

“If this is about what I think it’s about, babe, then I don’t want to do this over the phone.” Wade replied in a hoarse whisper.

“I’ve had quite a bit to drink... so, uh, could you maybe come here and we could go for a walk ‘round the neighborhood?” 

“Y-yeah, of course, Nate. I’ll see you in twenty. Fifteen if I ignore all traffic laws and regard for my own safety.” 

Cracking a wry smile, Nate replied; “I’ll see you in fifteen, Red.” 

Nate soon hung up the phone and went into his bedroom in search of clothes that were warm enough to protect him from the... sixty-nine degree weather outside, he found out from his phone’s weather app. 

It wasn’t long before there were a familiar set of breaks screeching outside his apartment, followed by a serious of honks that one could easily recognize as swear words. God, he loved and missed how utterly impatient Wade could be sometimes... Wait, wh—

Another loud, drawn out honk brought Nate out of his thoughts. “Ugh, shit.” Why the hell was Wade still honking when he could just walk up and knock on the fucking door like a normal person? 

Slipping his arms through his jacket sleeves, Nate picked his house keys up off the floor and headed out. “Wade! Stop fucking honking, people are sleeping!” He shouted at the vehicle parked by the curb. That seemed to have calmed the merc down quite a bit, seeing as he killed the engine and stepped out of the vehicle a moment later. 

“Sorry about that,” Wade mumbled, reaching up to self-consciously adjust his beanie. “Oh and, uh, if you still want complete and total honestly, I kinda have something to show you.” 

Nate nodded once, and followed Wade around to the trunk of his car. “You’re not planning on stuffing me in there and driving to the desert to kill me now that I know your secret, are you, Red?” 

Wade huffed out a laugh, though it had a sad undertone to it. He could quite obviously tell that Nate hadn’t been completely joking. “I wouldn’t dream of killing you, Nate. You’re too cute for that.” 

Part of Nate wanted to correct the merc, inform him that there wasn’t a single _cute_ thing about him, but there was a larger part of him that felt almost... flattered. 

“Yeah, no. You’re fine. You’re safe, honey. There’s just a big part of my life I keep hidden beneath a false bottom in here,” Wade popped the trunk, revealing a relatively clean surface, until he lifted the bottom of the trunk — the false bottom — and propped it up with a goddamn assault rifle. “Don’t shy away now, babe. C’mon, take a peek.” He gestured for Nate to huddle in close in case anyone was watching them. 

“Are those...” 

“Katana? Yep, they sure are. And that’s the costume I wear when I ‘kill for money’.” 

“And those are...” 

“My twin desert eagles, my bolt action rifle, my assault rifle I don’t get to use too often. And _those_ are what I like to call my last resort, but are most commonly referred to as ‘grenades’.” 

“Wade, just— put all this crap away before someone sees and calls the cops on us.” Nate said, as he hadn’t wanted to touch the other man’s freaking assault rifle he used to prop up the false-bottom, but wanted the damn thing to be closed all the same. Shrugging, the merc laid down the assault rifle, locked up the trunk and turned to face Nate with an expectant look on his face. 

“What?” 

“Give me your arm, babe. If we’re going to walk around this _entire_ neighborhood together, Burn Victim Billy is gonna need someone to protect him from the big bad wolf.” 

“Wade, you literally—“ He quieted his voice. “Wade, you kill for a living. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. Besides, my neighborhood isn’t even _that_ bad. There’s only been two— no, three suicides in my building this past month.” 

“Yikes, that’s nothing compared to _my_ building. Although, most of the deaths were murders and not suicides, so...” Wade shrugged, wrapped both his arms around Nate’s flesh and bone bicep, and began leading them away from the silver fox’s apartment complex. 

“So how’s this gonna work? Are you gonna tell me things, or do I have to ask questions or something?” 

Wade waited another half block before answering. “Ask me anything you want, babe.” 

“How’d you get into the business?” 

Wade didn’t hesitate a second before getting into his backstory, making a feeling of respect and admiration flare up inside of Nate. Deep down in the pit of his stomach. 

“After I’d been... honorably discharged from Special Forces, and I’d gotten out of the hospital where they did everything they could to fix all this—“ Wade paused to gesture at his face. “with skin grafts and all kind other kinds of crap, and not to mention the hell that was rehab, I realized that I needed to find a way to make money, and fast. I just— it may sound... I had nothing and no one after the accident, Nate. I didn’t want to live on the streets, or in a homeless shelter for veterans. I just couldn’t do that to myself, y’know? I don’t mean to sound like a complete and total dick or anything, but... being around all the guys with horrible PTSD and flashbacks and... seeing all their war wounds, missing limbs and... and not to mention the empty look in their eyes, I just... I don’t know, it just reminded me of every bad thing I ever had to do, and been through, and amplified it by a trillion. It— it made me feel as though I’d never be okay again. 

“I just felt it in my gut that I didn’t belong there with everyone else. I had to get out of there and back into the real world, I guess you could say. So I went hunting for jobs in places where you wouldn’t even have to see my face. Like a birthday party mascot, or the rat at Chuck E Cheeses. But nobody wanted to hire the disfigured homeless man. So... I wandered into a bar and got to talking with this weasely looking guy— well, more like I began pouring my goddamn heart out to him over drinks. And, once he realized just what I used to do for a living and what it could mean for him, he took pity on me and let me in on a little secret. The bar he owned just so happened to be a dispatch center of sorts for mercenaries, so he started me off with a couple of small jobs to see if I was trustworthy and could handle being... thrown back into action so soon after the accident and rehab. And, well, after a while I acquired some specialty weapons and had a costume made specifically for wearing on jobs.” 

After a long minute of silence Nate had spent absorbing all the information he’d acquired, he managed to formulate a coherent response. “You like what you do, correct?” 

“More than anything in the world, Nate.” 

“And you only kill people who really, truly deserve it?” 

Wade nodded. “Mhmm, only the scum of the earth. Trust me, babe, I may have a few screws loose, but I always make sure to thoroughly investigate my target before I even _think_ about taking the job.” 

Huh, good to know Wade still has a working moral compass. Unless, of course, he’s so far gone that he _thinks_ he’s doing the right thing and he’s really just some crazy bastard that belongs in an insane asylum. 

Nate shook his head at the thought, knowing that he’d never have befriended Wade if the guy had been some— serial killer without a goddamn care in the world. Even if it had been unintentional. He has to believe that Wade’s the same delusional, funny, exasperating guy he’s always known him to be. And that even if he kills for a living, it’s for a good cause. 

If Wade was all bad, Nate would’ve heard the thoughts upon their first meeting. 

“Give me one good reason why I should believe you, Red.” Nate said as they J-walked across a relatively dark, lamp-lit street. 

“Well, for starters, you just called me by the nickname you gave me the first day we met. You know, when we fell in love... And, uh, I kinda keep all of my case files hidden under the floorboards in a friend’s house. They’re all encrypted to the point where only I’d be able to decode them, but I could still show you them, if you’d like.” Wade snuggled a little closer as an Uber Lyft pulled up outside of someone’s house, and an old and younger man stepped outside of it. 

The offer was tempting, though Nate wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know who exactly the younger man has killed over the years. It would only further complicate his already conflicting feelings on the matter. It would send him into a frenzy, making him think back on all those high-profile political figures who’ve gone missing only to never be heard from again. And he just couldn’t bring himself to do that to himself, or Wade for that matter. 

“I think I’m good on that front. I don’t... I don’t think I need or want to see them, but I appreciate the offer nonetheless,” Nate cleared his throat at the same time as he felt his shoulders begin to slump forward. He was buzzed, and feeling vulnerable showing his friend this deeper, more affectionate side of him. “I don’t know what to do, man. A part of me wants to forgive you for keeping things from me solely because I want to trust what we have and what we’ve built this last month. And...” Nate sighed, hating himself for what he was preparing to admit to the maniac who claimed to be in love with him. “And a larger part of me wants to because life without you quite honestly sucks. It sucks big time, Red.” 

“While that is without a doubt the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, and I just wanna hug and kiss you till you— _don’t_ die, I just don’t know that I can let you back in if you’re planning on leaving me again, Nate. Maybe you should give it a couple of days, wait until you’ve got a clearer head, before you make your final decision.” 

It was a little out of the ordinary to see Wade with such a level head, though nice all the same. When Nate dipped a toe into the pond that is Wade’s mind, he found that the merc was nervous, and felt as though this was a serious discussion that deserved to be handled with care. It earned him some respect in Nate’s book. He didn’t care if he was buzzed— hell, subconsciously, he made his mind up on the topic _ages_ ago. 

He’d either learn to look past the merc’s dangerous, illegal job, or ask to be let in on things. At least little things... maybe small details that wouldn’t get them both arrested if the police were to question him? Eh, who even fucking cares anymore. Nate just needs there to be no more secrets between them anymore. 

“No need to worry ‘bout any of that. I’ve made up my mind on the matter.” 

The merc brought them to a sudden stop, his grip on Nate loosening until he was no longer touching him. He didn’t dare turn to face him either. Almost as if he had resigned himself to never seeing Nate again. “I get it, Nate...” Wade gently kicked aside a lone beer can lying in the gutter, seemingly needing an outlet to vent his... frustration? Sadness? Nate couldn’t decipher the emotions he felt coming off Wade in waves. They were all just so— so _jumbled_. 

Placing a gentle flesh and bone hand atop the merc’s slumped shoulder, Nate said: “You never let me finish. I was gonna say that I’ve decided to take you back. As my friend. ‘Cause I don’t know if a week of us being separated was as hellish for you as it was for me, but it fucking sucked, Wade. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been living off of nothing but beer and peanut butter for the majority of—“ Wade suddenly turned to face the elder, coming close only to wrap him up in a tight embrace; their cheeks brushing up against one another’s as he did so. After Nate had gotten over the initial shock, he hugged the merc back. 

Up until Wade made a grab for his ass. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” Nate placed his hands atop the younger man’s shoulders and pried him off; holding him at arm’s-length. 

“ _Fine_ ,” Wade acquiesced, and Nate released him from his hold. Which was a big mistake, as not even a whole three seconds after he did so, the merc leaned forward to take possession of his asscheek once more. Nate didn’t bother fighting him off this time; knowing it was a pointless battle. “But to make up for lost time and your no doubt suffering stomach, I’m taking you out to eat. Right now.” 

Nate rubbed at his temples, trying to fight off a smile at how utterly ridiculous the entire situation was. “Alright, fine. Just— Please let it be anywhere but McDonald’s, Red. Cause if you take me there I _will_ walk out the door and never speak to you again.” 

Releasing his grip on Nate’s asscheek, Wade wrapped his hands back around the elder’s arm and began leading him in the direction of... somewhere. “Aw, babe, you don’t really mean that. And besides, we’re going to Arby’s.”

“Great,” Nate sighed. “I‘ve been looking forward to being constipated all week.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Wade smiled up at Nate, and the older man could’ve sworn he felt something in his chest clench uncomfortably. He brushed it off, seeing as there was no need to worry about his own health or wellbeing. He was fine. A spring chicken if you will. 

“Walk faster, old man!” Wade tugged on his arm, pulling them both out into the road to J-walk across the mildly busy intersection. 

“Jesus Christ—“ Nate grumbled as he took the lead in getting them safely across the road as cars honked at and passed them by. Not very many stopped, seeing as they were pissed and it was late at night. 

Seeing that Arby’s was just another half block away, Nate allowed himself to smile in relief. He had his best friend back, and Wade was still the same delusional maniac he knew and— liked.


	9. Nate’s Fantasy Freak-out

“Babe, where are you taking me? Three AM is my masturbate on the couch and watch TV time.” Wade complained as Nate turned off the TV and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him towards the door of his apartment while he was still in his pajamas. Come to think of it, Nate was _also_ still in his pajamas. Had conservative-ass Nathanial Summers driven all the way over to Wade’s at three in the goddamn morning — his future husband’s _bedtime_ — in his mother fucking pajamas to take the merc out on some sort of secret sexy date adventure?! 

“We’re going to Walmart,” Nate explained, both ruining Wade’s fantasy and intriguing him. He cocked his head at his boo, giving Nate a questioning look. “To get you socks that aren’t filthy and ridden in holes. And... I may’ve forgotten to go grocery shopping earlier, so there’s no food left in the house.” 

Making a _loud_ sound of delight that was a cross between a coo and a shriek, Wade willingly bent over to slip on his blue crocs and oversized sweater he’d stolen from Nate’s house last week. “Natey, I just _love_ this spontaneous, sweet, sexy and caring side of you. It really adds that extra umph to our already spicey and amazing love life.” 

“Whatever,” Nate grumbled, though Wade couldn’t help but notice the smirk threatening to spread across his handsome face. God, his sweet and sexy Natey has been the absolute best future husband ever since they got back together. Or, as Nate would say, ‘became friends once again’. Which was complete and utter bullshit. They do everything a married couple does and _doesn’t_ do together. For instance, they hug, Wade grabs Nate’s ass, they hang out at work and each other’s places like literally _all_ the time — which Wade adores —, and much like a married couple, they never kiss or have sex. 

But, once Nate gets over his internalized homophobia — or, more likely his _Wade_ phobia, even though he already totally loves the merc —, they will kiss and fuck the shit out of each other in their happy, loving married life. 

Another plus about their new and improved relationship was the fact that Wade no longer had to lie about his line of work, or where he was going, or why he couldn’t make it to TGI Friday’s one night, or even why the hell he smelled like club soda. 

“Do me a favor and turn off every light in here, would ya?” Wade said with pleading eyes as he opened the door and stepped outside, causing his sweet to narrow his eyes in annoyance. “I would, but if I did I’d trip over all the crap I have lying around.” He gestured to all the clothes, shoes, candy bar wrappers and all the other garbage on the floor of his apartment. 

Nate sighed, slowly and reluctantly nodding. “Alright, fine. Just— make yourself useful out there and start the truck.” He placed the keys to his pickup truck in the palm of Wade’s hand, then turned back to the messy house to begin his tedious mission. Before he could though, Wade grabbed his arm to stop him. 

“And don’t forget my slurpee cup. I get really dehydrated in the middle of the night. And my glucose levels get really low. Drop like a goddamn bomb, actually...” 

“Fine, I’ll grab that too,” Muttered Nate. “If I can find it in all this crap...” 

“Babe, I can still hear you. And your future husband doesn’t appreciate it when he can hear you talking shit about his lovely home that only he’s allowed to complain about.” 

“Are you seriously talking in the third person right now?” Nate asked, amusement and slight irritation lighting up his beautiful face. 

“Yes, and I will be waiting in the car for you. So hurry up and sift through all my crap, Natey.” Wade blew a kiss, then turned on his heel and left, completely missing the warm chuckle that slipped past his future husband’s likely soft, warm — definitely inviting — lips. 

It wasn’t long until the merc managed to find and unlock Nate’s truck, which had a goddamn silver pair or fake gonads hanging beneath the rear license plate, and jiggled the key around in the ignition until the thing roared to life and only scared him a little bit. Soon, Nate came stumbling out the door of Wade’s humble abode; giant slurpee cup and keys in hand. Wade had made him a copy of his apartment key not long after they got back together. 

Opening the driver side door, Nate tossed the cup onto Wade’s lap since it (sadly) didn’t fit in any of the cup holders, and shifted the truck into drive. 

“Soooo,” Wade drawled. “Is it, like, your fantasy to take your future husband to Walmart while we’re in our pajamas or something?” 

Snorting softly, Nate glanced over at Wade; a wry smirk on his face. “I was looking something up earlier, when I found myself clicking on random articles until I ended up on some website called... Buzzfood or something like that, where there was this article about eleven things to do with your best friend before you die.” 

“And?...” Wade bit his lip, urging Nate to continue. 

“Number seven on the list was to go to a grocery store together in your pajamas. I thought you’d enjoy it, seeing as you’re nuts, so I grabbed pajamas I thought were appropriate enough to wear in public and drove over here.” 

“While that is the sweetest thing in the entire world, Natey, I think you should wear your _actual_ pajamas next time you break into my apartment in the middle of the night.” Wade practically purred, his hand resting atop his future husband’s knee. He nearly creamed his pants when the image of a sleepy, messy haired Nate in nothing but his boxers came to mind. 

Nate let out a soft grunt of irritation but didn’t try to pry the merc’s hand off of what was now his upper thigh, since he was driving and didn’t want to kill them. Maybe it was his sleep-deprived mind talking, but Nate could’ve sworn he saw a mental picture of _himself_ a hell of a lot more than half naked in Wade’s mind, accompanied by some... none too clean thoughts. Come to think of it, that was to expected from the merc, who’s mind was always on the topic of sex and Nate. Those two things being one in the same, of course. 

Breathing a shaky breath out from between his clenched teeth, Nate said: “Wade, do you mind taking your goddamn hand off my thigh?” 

“Why? Are you ticklish or something?” Before Nate could tell the merc to fuck off or else he might just crash their exhausted asses, Wade lightly squeezed the lower region of his thigh that connects to the knee. Which caused Nate’s leg to jerk on its own accord and stomp on the gas before lifting off of it completely for a moment. Luckily, there were no other cars on the road that were close enough to get hit or distracted by Nate’s... er, moment of weakness. 

“Wade! What the hell?” He narrowed his eyes at the man to his right, slapping at the large, warm hand that was _still_ resting atop his leg. He slapped it, watching as Wade feigned hurt, lightly caressing his ‘injured’ hand with the other. 

“Ouch,” he whined. “You’re just lucky we’re not married yet, bucko.” 

“And why’s that?” Nate asked, humoring the merc as he changed lanes to merge onto the freeway. 

“Because you hit me, and I could get you arrested for that kind of shit with just one phone call.” 

Shaking his head, Nate felt himself give a full-body sigh at Wade’s antics. The guy was his best friend for a reason, but he could be a real pain in the ass when he wanted to. 

“You could’ve gotten us killed, Red. Besides, if you don’t want to get slapped then you shouldn’t do stupid shit.” 

“Babe, there were no other cars around! And hey, I asked you if you were ticklish and you didn’t answer me. So when you think about it, it really wasn’t my fault and you should apologize and kiss it better.” 

“I was going to tell you, but you didn’t let me.” Before Wade could respond with some delusional crap he kept hidden in the depths of his dank, intriguing mind, Nate turned the radio on. Wade was surprisingly quiet after that. Well, other than the lewd thoughts swimming around in his mind, and the soft squeak of his seat as he moved to the beat of... Johnny Cash’s ‘Walk The Line’. 

Nate hadn’t meant for it to happen, especially not when he was driving on the _freeway_ of all places, but he’d accidentally forgotten to keep his mental shields strong enough to block Wade’s racing thoughts, and had caught a glimpse of the merc’s fantasy wherein Nate pulled over on the side of the freeway, unbuckling before he began roughly kissing his best friend. Towards the end of Wade’s mentally scarring porno-esque fantasy, Nate saw himself being ridden to completion in the drivers seat. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Nate coincidentally swore at the same time as fantasy him. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying his best to block out all the residual sights, sounds, smells and sensations from the other’s very _vivid_ fantasy. 

Wade lowered the volume on the radio, turning to place a warm hand on the other man’s flesh and bone bicep. “You okay, babe? You’re driving kinda fast and you look like you’re either about to shit yourself, or cream your pants.” 

Flinching at Wade’s touch after feeling the affects of his... fantasy, Nate glanced down at the speedometer to see that he was going eighty-five miles an hour. He felt more than saw the hurt and slight spook the merc felt at having been rejected and frightened, and sighed. “Sorry ‘bout that, Red. I got... distracted for a minute there.” 

***

“How many shopping carts do you think we’re gonna need?” Wade asked the man who’d yet to fully calm down from his mild (huge) freakout in the truck as they stood in front of Walmart. There was a homeless man off to their right who looked vaguely similar to the one who used to sit outside of 7-Eleven, who Wade learned the name of during his failed week of surveillance. Not hearing Nate’s response, as he was too distracted by the homeless man, Wade held up a finger and stalked off in the direction of the bum. 

Standing a foot away from the man, he got a closer look at the beach chair he sat in and realized it was a one of a kind Spongebob Squarpants one. “Homeless Tim?” Wade cocked his head to the side. “Is that you?” 

“Well if it isn’t Burn Victim Billy! How the hell are ya?” Homeless Tim smiled, all three of his teeth on display. And, as always, the sight of them caused Wade’s stomach to grumble. Note to self: remind Nate to grab corn. 

On Wade’s first goddamn day (minute) of surveying the convenience store, Homeless Tim had seen right through he perverted baby-boomer dad disguise. Guess the red, raised skin of his face was kinda a dead giveaway, even with his dad baseball cap on. They had become... allies of sorts, Wade learning bits and pieces of the man’s background, time spent in the military, and homeless Tim learning that Wade was more or less stalking his future husband and needed someone to keep watch of the convenience store in the mornings whilst Wade did research for his next victims— er, work... Which led to the merc paying the homeless man a whopping fifty bucks a day to keep watch and report back to him when he arrived in the evening to take over. 

It turns out that Homeless Tim never actually knew Nate’s schedule as he claimed to that second night they’d seen each other, when the bastard nearly made Wade gamble all the crap in his front left pocket. And he’d been willing to give the guy a couple hundred bucks to just tell him what days Nate worked to avoid having to surveil the damn place. They hadn’t exactly become friends throughout their week of being in cahoots, but they _had_ stopped outright threatening each other, choosing to instead take the path of passive-aggression. 

“I’m fucking great, man,” Wade grit his teeth, though he did feel almost... not glad, but not mad either at getting to see his old ally again. Homeless Tim’s been absent from his usual spot for a couple of weeks now. “As you can clearly fucking see, I found my future husband and were soon to be happily shacking up. Come say hi, Natey!” Wade went back over to where Nate stood by the shopping carts to drag him over to Homeless Tim. 

“Hi,” Nate grumbled, clearly uncomfortable. He wasn’t the type of guy who liked being put on the spot. 

“Now that’s just great! You found your wrinkled goose after all! And, just as I suspected, he has terrible social skills.” Homeless Tim laughed, and Wade would’ve joined in if he hadn’t just insulted his future husband. 

“Listed the fuck up _Homeless Tim_ — if that’s even your real goddamn _name_ —, nobody talks about my Natey like that and lives to see another—“ before Wade could finish yelling at his former accomplice, he was being dragged into Walmart, Nate muttering all the while that it’s ‘not worth it!’

Once safely inside the store and away from Homeless Tim, Wade’s future husband set him down to duck outside for a moment to grab a cart. “Just one?” He questioned, still not over how insanely hot it is when the elder manhandles him like that. 

“Wade, you nearly just instigated a fight with a homeless man at _Walmart_ twenty minutes after nearly crashing the truck not once, but twice. I’m not in the mood for your antics.” 

“Twice? Okay, you know I love you babe, but I think your brains have been scrambled by working so fucking much because I only remember nearly killing us one time. Today.” 

Nate sighed, pushing the cart down the first aisle he saw to try and put some distance between himself and the merc with a goddamn mouth. “Guess it was only once, then.” 

Wade followed him close behind, nearly getting close enough to grab his ass twice. Both times, Nate turned to glare at him, trying to dissuade his incessant efforts to no avail. God, it’s like everything that happened in the truck seemed to be taking a toll on not only Nate’s mood, but his mind as well. He just couldn’t seem to properly focus on anything, let alone deal with Wade’s large, bubbly, annoying (and sometimes even endearing), personality. 

But he also hated fighting with Wade. Hated being angry with, or taking out his anger on him. It wasn’t fair. Especially since it’s very unlikely the merc had been purposefully trying to transmit thoughts of his porno-esque fantasy to him. 

“Is there something other than me nearly killing us in an empty street that’s bothering you? Cause I thought tonight was supposed to be about two future lovers having fun.” Wade said from where he stood a couple feet behind him. Nate slowed the cart to a stop and turned to face his friend, ready to set things straight. 

“You’re right, tonight is supposed to be about having fun. And... yeah, I guess there is something else that’s been, uh, distracting me tonight.” 

“Did you wanna talk about it?” Wade asked, already taking small steps toward Nate until his long arms were wrapped loosely around the shorter man’s shoulders. Almost as if on instinct, Nate lifted his arms to loosely wrap them around the merc’s back. 

“Not tonight, Red. I’m just— not quite there yet, I think.” 

“Alrighty then, Natey. But you’ll tell me when you are, right?” Wade said, eyes wide and full of— something. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve got yourself a deal, Wilson.” Nate huffed out a laugh, gathering his delusional best friend in a hug that lasted longer than what would be considered _just friendly_. Especially when one of Wade’s hands trailed south to squeeze one of his ass cheeks. Which, coincidentally, was when an old man who worked there decided to walk down the aisle. Nate couldn’t help but hear some of the poor employees loudly projected thoughts. 

_I get that they’re young-ish and in love, but sweet baby Jesus, they need to get a goddamn room!_

Before the merc could place his other hand atop his buttocks, Nate pulled out of the hug and made a beeline for the cereal aisle. He was having major trouble controlling his... what? Gift? Curse? Whatever it was, he could hardly keep it in check, and heard Wade’s surface thoughts as he bolted right the hell outta there. 

_Dammit! My future goddamn husband left before I could cop a feel of his sweet, juicy ass with _both_ hands!_

“Babe, why are you running away again!” Wade called after Nate as he chased him, his crocs loudly hitting the floor with every step he took. Which was surprising, considering they’re made of fucking foam. “Did I forget to mention I’m sorry?”


	10. The Silver Fox’s Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but I’m so sorry for not updating for over two months. I have no excuses other than being a world-class procrastinator, and being really anal about the editing process of writing lol. 
> 
> I’m pretty content with how this chap turned out, sooooo, here ya go! I will hopefully be updating semi-regularly soon, and I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for all the kudos, and comments politely urging me to update! :)

Wade eventually caught up to Nate, the former having rummaged around the candy section and grabbed practically one of everything in sight. “Shit,” Nate muttered as the merc dumped all his findings into the cart. 

“Oh it’s fine, babe. Since I’m basically rich I’ll just buy all this crap myself. Don’t you worry your amazing little ass.” 

“I didn’t mean the candy, though I am concerned for the health of your teeth at this point,” Nate said, pushing the cart out of the frozen food section and into the men’s clothing section. “C’mon Red, we gotta stay on track here. So go grab some underwear and pajamas with less holes and stains in them, and I’ll grab some damn socks.” 

“Bossy,” Wade drawled, swiping the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip only to lightly bite down on it. “Wonder if you’re like that in bed. Ooh, or maybe you like being submissive because it’s the only place you feel comfortable letting your guard down! It sounds like the summary for some sorta raunchy, suspenseful drama type movie, but it’s just so sweet and sexy how it applies to your life—“ 

Nate suddenly stopped walking, his back and shoulders stiff and tense as he turned to face Wade. “Underwear. Pajamas. _Get them_.” Then, before his future husband turned away, he closed his eyes and breathed out a shaky breath. “Please.” 

Not wanting to dwell too much on why Nate’s been acting so... unhinged? since they got in his truck earlier, Wade nodded slightly and stalked off in the direction of the unmentionables. He hadn’t meant to bother or upset Nate. And Nate usually has (almost) no problem dealing with and not acknowledging his antics as well as all the crazy shit he has to say, but tonight just doesn’t seem to be his night. In fact, his sweet almost seems as though he’s losing his mind. 

Strange. 

Shrugging his shoulders to try and shake off the uneasy feeling festering in the pit of his stomach, Wade perused all the different kinds of underwear Walmart, the place where dreams come true, had to offer. They had boxers, boxer briefs, and briefs in every color and pattern you could imagine. Wade being Wade, of course picked some superhero boxer briefs as well as some obnoxiously bright neon ones. He hopes his future husband likes Spider-Man and chartreuse. 

No, scratch that. He hopes that the underwear he’s buying turns his sweet on like no other. It’s gonna be boner city up in this bitch once they’ve finally consummated their UST-ridden relationship. God, just the thought of it had Wade popping a semi in his rubber ducky pajama pants. When he poked his head around the corner to begin his search for pajamas that weren’t hole-ridden and stained, he caught sight of Nate hunched over a bin full of socks, eyes clenched shut as he massaged his temples. 

He contemplated going over to his future husband to comfort him, ask him if he was feeling all right when he quite obviously _wasn’t_ , but thought better of it when he saw the salt and pepper haired man straighten with a low and gruff groan that sounded as though it’d been ripped from his throat. Nate breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling as he shook his head as though he were trying to clear his cluttered mind. It wasn’t long before he resumed sifting through all the patterned and plain socks. 

Wade watched him for a moment longer, waiting until Nate had completely calmed down to turn his attention toward the many racks of pajamas. He was worried, and for good reason it seemed. Maybe some WWE PJ’s with that sack of shit John Cena’s face on them would cheer his future husband up. And, if that _somehow_ didn’t work, he could always make Nate stop by 7-Eleven to get a slurpee refill. Recreate their first meeting as best he could. 

He hated seeing Nate sad, in pain. It hurt even more that there was nothing he could do about it. It seemed as though everything he did to try and help only made matters worse. “Maybe he just needs space,” Wade muttered aloud as he tried his hand at balancing all his underwear in one arm while sifting through racks of pajamas with the other. “Or maybe he’s finally gotten sick of me. Even though he’s voluntarily spent every goddamn minute of his free time with me since we got back together.” 

“I’m not sick of you,” the merc heard come from behind. He whipped around to face the voice so fast he very nearly got whiplash. “Just have a wicked migraine.” Nate grimaced. It was in that moment that Wade noticed the open bottle of water and Advil in the front basket of his shopping cart. 

Wade let out a sigh or relief, his shoulders sagging slightly. He didn’t allow himself to relax completely, a part of him not able to fully believe that Nate could not hate or blame him for his misfortunes. Even though the larger part of him knew that his future husband loved him with all his heart. 

He grabbed a plain grey shirt and a flannel pair of pajama pants, dumping them into the cart along with the rest of the crap in his arms before giving Nate a weak smile. Wade was just glad the other man had learned something useful from him. Opening food items and eating them while shopping. 

“I know how...” insecure “you can get about whether or not you’re wanted around by people, and I’m...” Nate paused for a long moment, scrubbing a hand across his mouth and slightly stubbly chin. “I hope I didn’t make you feel that way, or make you question our friendship. We’ve been through a lot these past couple of months, and I hope this—“ Nate made a vague gesture between the two of them. “Whatever _this_ is, lasts.” He lightly squeezed Wade’s shoulder as he passed him by to grab some plain old pajamas. They were even plainer than the plainest ones Wade had grabbed. God he loved Nate and his minimalistic lifestyle. Even if it was annoying at times. 

“Thanks, babe,” Wade mumbled, feeling himself blush from head to toe. “See, this is why I love you so much. You have such a scarily deep and profound understanding of me that I can’t compare to any friendship or relationship I’ve ever been in. Hell, it’s almost like you can—“ Wade fell silent, a unsettling feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. It was possible that what he suspected to be true oh-so long ago could very well be factual. “Nate?” 

The man in question halted his movements, his hand falling away from a rack of clothing to rest by his side. His back stiff as a board. His military stance. Even though Nate’s body language changed almost imperceptibly to a stranger’s eye, Wade could read him like an open book. He was onto something. Nate knew what he was gonna say.

He uncovered the silver fox’s secret. 

“Nate?” He tried once more, thinking for a long, painfully silent moment that the older man wasn’t going to dignify him with a response when Nate let out a soft grunt that was supposed to have been taken as a warning. They were in public, supposed to be having happy, fun couple time, but Wade couldn’t just let this go. He needed to know. “Nate, are you?... I mean, uh, can you... y’know—“ he attempted to ask, making vague hand gestures toward his temple that Nate hadn’t turned around to see. 

“Don’t.” Nate all but choked out. “Not now, Wade. Not here. It’s not safe.” 

Well, isn’t that a bad case of deja vu. Nate using Wade’s own words against him? No, he was more echoing them. He would never intentionally try to make Wade feel small. 

“Alrighty. Later it is, then.” Wade said, making his way toward the checkout and getting in line. Nate showed up a couple minutes later, jimmying the cart to get it around Wade, since he was kinda blocking the area right beside the conveyor belt. His tense future husband then began setting all of his groceries, clothing and other such crap Wade had managed to slip into the cart onto the conveyor belt as well. 

After the bored employee who seemed to be slightly high off... something was done checking out the cute old man in line in front of them, they began slowly scanning their items. By the time they were finished scanning their items and it was time to fork over the dough, Nate already had his wallet out and was paying with a card. 

“I could’ve...” Wade started only to be cut off. 

“No,” Nate muttered distractedly as he attempted to secretly type in his pin number. Wade still saw and memorized all the numbers. Just in case. “I haven’t been able to keep my cool tonight, so I’m buying all your junk. Besides, I said I’d get you new socks if you burned your old ones.”

“True, but I still haven’t gotten around to setting them ablaze yet. You know, since I love them so much and works been a real bitch lately.” Wade mumbled, eyes trained on the conveyor belt as he sulked. “Aaaannd we forgot to bring bags. Great.”

“It’s fine, Red. We’ll just buy some new ones.” 

“ _Excuse me_ , but did you, Nathan Summers, my future husband, just say that you’re going to _buy_ new ones instead of giving me your keys and making me walk through the scary parking lot littered with trash and piss all the way back to the truck to retrieve them? Aw, babe, you really do feel bad!” Wade hugged Nate from behind, wrapping his long, slender arms around his taut stomach. Pressed up against his sweet, Wade could feel the hard packed muscle that made up Nate’s back, ass, and thighs. His thighs... Ugh, Wade would let him crush his head between those beautiful sculptures chiseled by God himself like a sparrows egg. 

The fact that Nate was allowing Wade to continue hugging him so intimately while he conversed with the cashier was nothing short of a goddamn _miracle_. Feeling safe in the knowledge that his future husband loves and cares about him so much that he’s willing to squash down his ire and open up to him about his best kept secret makes Wade press closer to the warm body stood before him; snuggling his face into the soft t-shirt that smelled of lavender fabric softener. He felt so relaxed that he very nearly fell asleep right then and there. 

He would love nothing more than to take his future husband back to his apartment and either fall asleep pressed up against his back, or be held against his firm muscled chest with just the right amount of squish to keep him comfortable and warm throughout the night. Though he’d much prefer it if they were naked, sweaty and exhausted from the hardcore, banging-the-headboard-into-the-wall sex they would be having if Nate would let loose for once and give into his deepest, darkest desir—

“Could you grab a couple of these?” Nate grit out, bursting Wade’s sexy fantasy bubble and forcing him to open his eyes. There were six reinforced plastic reusable bags stuffed full of crap sitting atop the end of the checkout counter. 

Wade attempted to try and quiet his mind as to not hurt Nate. He wasn’t stupid and knew what’s been hurting his future husband’s head for a while now. Well, since the pajama aisle that is. Though Nate won’t talk about it until they’re in a private place where they won’t be overheard. Try and figure things out. So, keeping his mind as blank as possible, and without uttering a word, Wade grabbed as many bags as he could carry (which just so happened to be _four_ ), and headed in the direction of the exit. He saw Homeless Tim on his way out, sending the man, his old ally, a sad, apologetic smile. He hadn’t meant to snap at him earlier, but he’d insulted _Nate_. He couldn’t stand for such blasphemy. 

He heard footsteps coming from behind and continued on his path toward the truck, never once stopping until he reached the bed of it where he dumped the bags, then waited by the passenger side door while Nate did the same. When Nate _finally_ unlocked his own door, Wade had to refrain from banging on the window for his future husband to unlock the rest of the truck. It was difficult, but he managed. 

Once they were both sitting in the cabin of the truck, Nate took a couple of painkillers and turned to face the merc who’d inadvertently figuratively caved in his skull. All the thoughts, images, specifically the loud and sexual ones, have been giving him the worst goddamn migraines he’s ever had in his entire life. 

“I’ve never admitted it to anybody, _ever_ , and I know I said not tonight, but... yeah. Yeah, I am. Uh, I _can_.” He cleared his throat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Wade stiffen, then sag in relief. 

“Is it— Am I somehow hurting you?... Y’know with my—“ he turned in time to see Wade make a vague gesture toward his temple and cranium. Nate was glad his friend was being subtle, or at least not saying _it_ out loud incase there was some sort of listening device in the cabin of his truck, or they were for some reason being monitored through their phones. Nate could’ve just spoke in the merc’s head, had the whole conversation in that jumbled mess of a mind that was... quite intriguing and sometimes painful, but had never done that to anybody before and didn’t want to startle or scare Wade off. He was Nate’s only friend and he cared very deeply for him. Even if he didn’t want to sometimes. 

“You— project a lot,” he forced the words out, not quite knowing how to word what’s on his mind in a way that wouldn’t offend the younger man. “Uh, you...” Nate made some vague gestures with his hands, slotting his fingers together and hoping Wade would understand that he meant fucking.

Realization thankfully dawned on Wade, the merc’s lips forming an ‘o’ as he looked from Nate to the brightening sky. It was six in the morning. They’ve been out for _three hours_. “Can you— So you’ve _seen_ what’s going on in here?” He pointed to his cranium. 

Nate nodded, a grimace in place on his face. “Unfortunately,” he bit his lip. “Tonight, though... you’ve uh, you’ve been projecting a lot more than just thoughts. There’s been some, uh, very vivid images.” 

“That have been distracting and hurting you.” It wasn’t a question. Wade was making a statement. One that had his lips twisting into a wry smirk. Nate could understand the feelings Wade was still heavily projecting. There were many, but the most prominent were pride at having flustered Nate, arousal, and guilt for having put his ‘future husband’ in pain, even if it had been inadvertent. 

It made Nate want to flick the merc’s ear and tell him to stop being an idiot and realize that it’s _okay_. He doesn’t blame Wade, and he wished oh-so badly that his friend would stop blaming himself for everything, and gain some goddamn self respect. Wade is as insecure as they come when it comes to... well, everything. He’s insecure about being a good friend, being wanted around, being a good, er, future husband, and... being a halfway decent human being. Which was bullshit, cause even though the insane man Nate’s proud to call his best friend is a fucking mercenary, he still has morals. He does extensive research before deciding whether or not it’s ethical to off his target, and that counts as something pretty damn special in Nate’s book. 

Thinking about how much he stupidly cares for the merc reminds Nate of how close they’ve gotten in the last couple of months. Which would explain why Nate’s beginning to receive more than just the occasional thought or image from the younger man. The closer he gets to someone, the more he hears their thoughts. And at this point, Nate has to wonder if this is the way it’s always going to be between them. Unless, of course, he could teach Wade how to put up mental shields, barriers, to help protect the both of them and keep the... er, emotional transference to a bare minimum. 

“Not your fault, Red,” Nate spoke with conviction. “We’re going to figure this out. We have to.” If Wade doesn’t mind the fact that his so called ‘future husband’ can read minds, that is. “Unless, of course, you... _don’t_ want to be with me any—“ 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Nathanial Summers. If anyone in this truck should want to run for the hills it should be you! You’re in pain! Your pow— gift, this thing you’ve been given for a reason, this thing most people would abuse, is mind blowing— uh, bad choice of words... Ugh, Nate, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t fucking care if you know what goes on in this loaded coconut—“ he paused to knock on the side of his head. “I care about you, babe. And we will figure this out. Together. So stop hiding from me, ‘cause I know you can’t handle this on your own. Okay?” 

After a long moment of contemplation wherein Nate could _feel_ the sincerity in the words his best friend spoke, he nodded once. “Okay.”

“Good. Now let’s go home. It’s like six in the goddamn morning and you need to get used to being really close to me. And I mean like, pressed up against my back on my _temperpedic_ , close.” 

“Appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll take the couch.” Nate grumbled, turning his head away from the merc to try and hide a tiny smile as he started up the truck and pulled out of the mostly empty parking lot.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading this and want more, don’t hesitate to let me know your thoughts on this chapter :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Waiting Around To Die](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854848) by [Fantasticly_Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasticly_Anonymous/pseuds/Fantasticly_Anonymous)




End file.
